


On the Wrong Side

by lifeinthebox



Category: Mass Effect, Red vs. Blue
Genre: 3 Years after Mass Effect 3, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Agent North, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Destroy Ending, F/M, Freelancer AIs/Armor upgrades classified as Tech Powers, M/M, Paragon Commander Shepard, Post-Mass Effect 3, Shepard Has PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 132,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3813679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeinthebox/pseuds/lifeinthebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the fall of the Reapers and the crash of most technology as the galaxy knew it, the galaxy is rebuilding, recouping, and stabilizing. But mercenaries still have to make a living somehow, and not everyone wants to stay in the New Dark Ages forever. Stuck between stagnation and illegal innovation, Agent Carolina and the rest of the Freelancer outfit, along with their experimental AIs, choose the latter, pushing the line between indoctrination and collaboration between humans and AIs. The question no one wants to answer: just how far before that line is crossed?</p><p>Still rebuilding from the catastrophic consequences of the Reaper invasion, the last thing the Alliance and the Council wants is unregulated experiments. And who better to send to mop up descention than Commander Finn Shepard and the infamous Normandy crew? At least, in theory. Still haunted by the repercussions of her choice, and faced with an opponent that won't crumble without a fight, Shepard and her crew can either be a tool of the Council, or help shape the growth of the galaxy themselves.</p><p>No one ever said the choices would be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own, nor am I responsible for, anything from Mass Effect, or Red vs. Blue, I'm just happy those worlds exist to play around with, all credit for them goes to the creators smart enough to make them as awesome as they are. The main ships, so far, are listed in the tags, but new ones will be added as the story progresses- anyone not already paired off is probably in the running for a crossover ship, though I can say now, not everyone will get a love interest. Other Mass Effect Crew members will make appearances, notably Miranda, and maybe Wrex and Traynor.

"We needed that door open ten minutes ago!!" the observation was bellowed over the roar of gunfire. "Delta!!!"

"I am sorry, Agent Carolina," Delta flashed into the air at Carolina's shoulder. "I do not have the ability to work in the past."

"Not the time to learn sarcasm, D!" York shouted, slinging his shotgun off of his back. "Just get it done."

"Of course, Agent York," Delta wavered as his program went to work again, flashing back to the door.

They were pinned down really well this time, York had to admit, and he hoped the data was worth it. With their backs to a door that even Delta was having trouble breaking, they were being hammered by gunfire, and North and Theta's power reserves had been used up in the last attack, only leaving enough shielding to keep North from turning into a block of Swiss cheese.

"When are they going to get the hint and get off of our ass?!" Carolina asked, the kick of the rifle making her stumble back.

"An ass like yours?" York laughed, popping the clip out of his gun and shoving another one in in the same motion. "It could take awhile..."

"I don't have bullets to waste on you," Carolina said scornfully, but York could hear the adrenaline and love of the fight coursing through her voice.

"Sniper!!" Connecticut screamed, ducking behind her crumbling shelter. "Two o'clock!!"

"What?!" Wash howled, diving for cover when he earned a shower of bullets for sticking his head up.

"Up there, dumbass!!" South swore.

"Fuckin' turians," Carolina snarled.

Theta's field dropped as North fired, sending a bullet racing to bring down the wall above the turian's head in a cloud of rubble. York hoped that this group would get the hint soon. It was such a motley band, York was surprised, and pissed off, that they hadn't torn each other to shreds yet. Their commander was a looker, so was the asari with a nice ass, and the psychotic biotic woman probably was under all of the ink and light shows, but the turian was a pain in the ass, and had nearly taken off half of North's face last time. Add to that a quarian with a droid fetish, what must be hulking military brat, a former officer with a stick up his ass York almost pitied him for, a krogan with 'roid rage, and a pilot that gave Four Seven Niner a run for her money, and this group was turning into more trouble than a good fight was worth.

"Agent York," Delta appeared at York's shoulder. "I have succeeded in opening the door. Evacuation would be prudent."

"Ya think?!" York shouted.

"Four Seven Niner had better be ready!" Carolina swore as a bullet sent a rock flying into her helmet.

"Ready and wasting gas," Four Seven Niner said confidently. "I'd swoop in for a rescue, but you idiots picked a place with a roof."

Four Seven Niner next insult was lost as the earth in front of them burst in a series of deafening explosions that sent Wash and South flying. South slammed into the back wall and Wash rebounded, skidding to a stop, buried in the falling earth. North broke into a sprint behind Connecticut's cover fire, grabbing his sister's arms and dragging her, kicking, screaming, and cursing, towards the exit.

"Shit! Delta, how long?" Carolina demanded.

"Based on my estimation, between 20 and 30 seconds," Delta reported calmly."However, there is a standard deviation of 10 and-"

"Never mind!" York didn't want to die listening to how long he had to live. "Go!"

York dove to the ground as a second biotic blast broke the last fragment of wall he and Carolina had been sharing. Clawing his way forward, York wormed his way over to Wash, the younger man still struggling to get up from getting intimate with a crater.

"North!!! Share the wealth, you asshole!" York screamed into his headset.

"Last time, ok?" North sounded weary as he reassured Theta through his third battle.

York gasped in relief as a wavering wall appeared in front of him and Wash, the bullets rattling uselessly against it as York tugged and prodded Wash to uncurl from the fetal position.

"Get up!! Get up, Wash, or I am leaving your stupid ass here!" York ordered. "Delta?"

"Assuming optimal conditions, five seconds," Delta didn't need York to tell him to finish quickly.

York and Wash covered their heads as the shield above them shattered and blinked out, and the sound of bullets piercing the earth around him jolted Wash into action. Lurching up from the ground, Washington followed at York's heels as they hauled ass for the door, and the safety of the Pelican hovering under Four Seven Niner's steady guidance. North dumped his sister in the shuttle, joining Connecticut and Carolina in giving York and Wash cover fire until they flew over the threshold and lept into the shuttle. Wash clipped the step, crashing onto his side and skidding, making York trip and sending them into a jumbled heap.

"Carolina!" Connecticut shouted. "Let's go!!"

York shoved Wash off, looking up to see Carolina still in the doorway, emptying her ammo at the opponents, hardly stopping to aim.

"Get in, or I'm leaving!" Four Seven Niner threatened. "I am not an armored car!"

Carolina lowered her weapon, and York could feel her shout of frustration as she turned for the shuttle, leaping into the cabin as the door started to close. Four Seven Niner punched it, leaving the smoking lab shrinking in the distance.

"Damn it!!" Carolina slammed her feet into the door of the shuttle. "Fucking damn it!"

"Hey hey hey!! Don't take it out on the ride!" Four Seven Niner shouted back.

York joined North and Wash in the seats, tucking his legs under the bench as Carolina dared to stomp down on the door a final time, then got up, yanking off her helmet and throwing it aside with a furious crash. North winced as the sound, and York saw him frown as he listened to Theta, or tried to calm the younger AI in the wake of the chaos. 

"This is the 4th time they've been there!" Carolina said furiously, her eyes blazing.

"Fifth, Agent Carolina," Delta reported accurately.

York winced as everyone glared at Delta, effectively glaring at York as Delta floated in the air in front of him. Even so, he was right, as usual, York thought bitterly. If York wasn't so tired, he might have joined Carolina in furiously swearing. Even Delta was spent, quieter than normal after hacking for two hours.

"At least we won this one," North tried to find a bright side, rubbing his eyes and sighing heavily. "Let's hope the data is worth it."

"And they 'won' the last one," South pointed out, scowling as her brother studied the floor in thought. "We're not kids on the playground, it's not best two out of three."

"I didn't see you making a dent," Connecticut grumbled bitterly. "Other than with your head."

"Alright!" North checked back in just before a fight broke out, grabbing his sister's arm and throwing her into a seat as she stomped towards Connecticut. "Let's just be glad we got it this time."

York leaned back into the wall, closing his eyes and dozing off to the rock of the shuttle. North was putting on a good face, but South was more realistic. The longer this group stuck around, the harder jobs would be. The money and perks were worth it, for now, but York was beginning to wonder how long that could last.

He was still wondering when they got back, cracking open his armor and rubbing the dents from his shoulders and neck. Carolina didn't bother changing, heading straight to hand in the data. The AI program was a massive undertaking, especially after technology had only recently started being a viable business again, and the AI's took a lot of storage space and power. The director was constantly looking for the next advancement to take the strain off the agents. York scratched at the scar above the implant in his neck, kicking North as the other man's eyes closed, his head sinking until his chin rested against his chest.

"Pull him," York suggested, already looking forward to having Delta out of his head for the evening.

North shook his head, getting up with a groan under his breath and straightening his locker. Wash hobbled in from the showers, ruffling his dark hair and stretching his back and shoulders. Hours in armor wasn't as fun as it sounded.

"It'd be nice if we could at least hit one of them," Wash mumbled, straightening the towel around his waist.

North nudged York this time, tipping his head in Wash's direction and looking sympathetic when Wash sniffed and rubbed his face. Agent Washington had been with the outfit long enough to earn the title, but he was the newest acquisition, and his naivete about the big wide galaxy was starting to wear thin. York kicked North back when North nudged him again, thinking that while South could be too cold for her own good, North could be too sympathetic.

"Well, those turians are tough bastards," North mused, nodding his head at Wash again and staring at York accusingly.

"Yeah..." York agreed to play along. "Those mandibles pack a punch, with the poison."

"Poison??" Wash yelped, jerking his head up.

"Oh yeah," North nodded thoughtfully, barely managing to hide a smile by pulling on a clean shirt. "If a female uses them right though-"

"Oooow," Wash whimpered, looking mortified, yelping when Connie punched him in the back of the head. "Ow!!"

"They're fucking with you, moron," South said, slamming her locker shut.

"Female turians don't even _have_ mandibles," Connie groused as she walked away, ignoring Wash ogling her ass to comfort himself.

"That is incorrect, Agent Connecticut," Delta flashed up without warning. "Female turians have smaller mandibles, and similar structures located at the back of the jaw."

Delta looked around in the deafening silence while Connecticut opened her mouth, then snapping it shut and turning on her heel to follow South, leaving Delta waiting expectantly. York resisted the urge to punch the holographic ass in front of his face, having learned that it wasn't as satisfying as the idea was.

"So....so, they aren't poisonous?" Wash called uncertainly, wiggling his fingers by his mouth and clicking.

"Correct, merely decorative. Ancestrally, it is likely that-"

"We're just messing around, D," York groaned. "Log off."

"Yes, Agent York," Delta said crisply, fading into York's locker obediently.

Closing his locker, York jogged to catch up with North and Wash, shoving Wash when the younger man tripped over the floor, and earning a stern glare from North. Holding up his hands innocently, York passed the shove along to North, who grumbled and shouldered him back.

"Pull him, you look like shit," York goaded.

"Then stop looking," North snapped, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What ho!!"

"Oh no," Wash tensed, and the three men picked up their pace.

 _Reggie_ , York mouthed as he shared a look with North, who was grimacing now, looking over his shoulder and snapping on a tired smile when Wyoming trotted up to them with Maine beside him.

"Heard you fellows had a rough time of it today," Wyoming said with dripping condescension, while Maine gargled gravel in agreement.

"Heard you had an easy run," York shot back.

"Successful," Wyoming corrected, practically twirling his mustache.

York could have successful missions too, if all they involved was haggling with batarian mercenaries. Especially if Maine and his weapon came along, to convince the traders that a good deal was best for everyone.

"Nothing we can't handle, they're just keeping us on our toes," North said calmly.

"Some of you could use it," Wyoming noted, looking at Wash pointedly.

Wash squawked indignantly, flinching along with the others when the rattle of gun turrets drifted down the hall. Yorks spirit's plummeted as the turrets fell silent for a few blessed seconds, before the gun fire started again, drilling it's way into his skull. Wash veered away from York, heading down the hall towards his bunk, slamming the door when he heard Maine growling on his heels.

"Bad luck, chum," Wyoming clapped York on his shoulders and ducked away before York had a chance to sock him, whistling smugly as he walked away.

North shrugged sympathetically, leaving York to continue alone while he meadered towards his bunk, bringing up the small pink and purple Theta, complimenting him on his resiliance that day, smiling proudly when Theta mumbled something. Shaking his head over North's affinity for martyrdom over common sense, York helped himself to a cup of coffee as he took a seat in the observation room over the training floor.

Carolina was switching weapons, from her pistol to a rifle while F.I.L.S.S. lowered the smoking and shattered turrets into the floor and replaced them with new ones, ready for service and destruction.

"Those things aren't free," York pointed out, propping his boots up on the table. "Maybe we could just buy this shit if we didn't blow through the department's budget."

"We're stealing tech that's not even on the market yet," Carolina snapped, picking up a grenade launcher. "They can afford this."

"Yowch," York muttered into his coffee cup as Carolina took out the turrets with extreme prejudice.

After the grenade launcher, it was a sniper rifle. Then a rifle. Then her pistol again. Carolina didn't pause between rounds, grabbing her choice of weapon as F.I.L.S.S. reset the course, and stopping just short of tearing the turrets out with her bare hands.

"Y'know," York said as F.I.L.S.S. replaced the shattered blocks that served as cover. "I know something we can do to work of steam, and it only costs, like....three credits?"

"In this economy?" Carolina smirked.

"Ok, maybe, like ten," York admitted. "Fifteen if you want variety. Twenty for multiple species stuff."

"York..."

"Not that I would...uh, yeah, you notice things, when you browse," York reasoned, thinking back on a green asari that had made the extra credits worth it.

York kissed any chance of using his spoils goodbye as Carolina reloaded her shotgun, adding a set of grenades to her belt and ordering F.I.L.S.S. to reset the course. Watching Carolina fly through the challenge, York tried to remember what it was like when picking up girls had been as easy as flashing a smile and saying he was special ops. There was playing hard to get, there was complicated, there was fear of commitment. And then there was Carolina.

"Go to bed, York," Carolina advised flatly when the guns stopped. "We need you rested up for the next mission."

"That won't be for awhile," York said with false confidence. "They have to make sure what we got was any good this time around."

"Then put some training time in yourself," Carolina said. "We can't have you messing up those holographic locks."

"Delta could have warned me there was a backup trigger!!" York shouted over Carolina's snicker. "Little shit."

Carolina laughed cheerlessly, taking off her helmet and shaking out her red hair, looking up at York with her hands on her hips. Even from a story up, York could see the circles under her eyes. But he knew better than to critique Carolina's stamina and appearance. Besides, only Carolina made armor and sleep deprivation look as good as a cocktail dress.

"Just get some rest, I'll be done in a few minutes," Carolina shouted up, waving York towards the exit and turning back to her course.

York stretched out in his chair, finishing the last of his coffee and making himself comfortable as Carolina started another round. York dozed off to the sound of gunfire and the hope that the assholes that had caused this were at least having a worse day than they were.


	2. Chapter 2

"Maybe someone should talk to Shepard," Tali twisted her hands uncertainly. "She seemed pretty upset."

This reasonable suggestion was met with dead silence, the only sound in the room Mordin's muttering as he prodded the healing injury over Garrus's eye. Liara looked distraught, glancing at the space where Shepard should be standing. Jack snorted, crossing her arms angrily and challenging Garrus to flinch when Mordin jarred his face. Kaidan could feel people sneaking looks at him, and decided that studying the floor pensively might buy time until someone thought of a better idea.

"Maybe someone should go talk to her," Lieutenant James Vega repeated, perched on the medical cot across from Garrus.

"Damn, you really are useless," Jack snapped. "Someone already beat you to that plan."

"Take it easy, ThreeB, I heard her," Vega said, shifting in his seat to try and escape Jack's glower. "I mean _talk_ to her...y'know."

Kaidan studied the floor harder as Vega's suggestion hung in the air, and Jack smirked in approval when James nodded to Kaidan, scooting his hips forward on the cot and clearing his throat meaningfully while everyone turned to stare at him.

"What, it's not like it's a secret," Vega said, looking confused when Cortez nudged him. "Look, I'm just saying, it never hurts to loosen up after a fight. And the best way to loosen up is to _loo_ -"

"Someone stop him," Garrus begged, hissing unhappily as Mordin applied medi-gel.

"Medically sound," Mordin contradicted. "Benefits of intercourse range from psychological to physical, can be emotionally therapeutic."

"Someone stop _him_ ," Kaidan added, looking up to find Mordin blinking at him in offended confusion.

"Vega, you know the commander, right?" Cortez asked. "You think that talking about her is going to put her in a better mood?"

"Lola's pretty open," Vega shrugged, scowling when Cortez shook his head and gave up. Crossing his arms petulantly, Vega grumbled. "Or she and Doc can have girl talk or whatever...oooooh...."

"All Shepard needs to do it kick these assholes into the next system and she'll be good as new," Jack said confidently as Vega started to smirk, yelping as Cortez kicked him.

"If I don't get to them first," Grunt rumbled from the corner. "By the time I'm done with them, they'll be multicolored drink cans."

The silence settled over the circle again, and Kaidan stared down the barrel of defeat. Things had not been going their way recently, and they were all on edge. Talking to Shepard was hard when Shepard was trying to save everyone single handedly and forgot the people who served beside her.  
"They're good," Garrus mercifully changed the topic, sounding grim at the admission. "Better equipped than most mercenaries, that's military grade armor, and those enhancements are something I've never seen."

"Not unheard of," Mordin brushed off his hands and lectured the circle. "The force fields are strengthened, suspect second emitter...been meaning to improve the prototype...golden suit has an upgraded medigel dispensary, not uncommon on black market."

"At least the _pendejo_ with the knifle wasn't there this time," Vega muttered, throwing up his hands when everyone glared at him. "What?! It's a dude with a rifle made out of a knife, you tell me what that's called!"

"What about the fast one?" Tali asked nervously. "I've never seen a biotic use a Charge like that..."

"It's not biotic," Liara said. "Not even an asari biotic would be strong enough to maintain their speed for that long."

"Spike in armor temperature during use indicates tech upgrade, like others," Mordin reported. "Would need to analyze armor to understand mechanics."

"Break her legs," Grunt suggested. "You can't run if you don't have knee caps."

Kaidan sighed, closing his eyes as the bright lights of the clinic started to sting and the implant kicked, reminding him that there were costs to using his biotics as much as Jack did. Garrus snapped his eye scope back on, brushing Tali's hand as he went to stand beside her, blinking his eye experimentally.

"So....," Jack drew out the word, tilting her head and smirking at Kaidan, ignoring Vega's triumphant laugh. "You ready to go loosen her up, lover boy?"

"Joker?" Kaidan asked hopefully.

"Commander just left the comm room, Major, and someone has to fly this baby," Joker's voice crackled over them.

"EDI could fly her," Cortez reminded.

"EDI could go talk to Shepard...at least we can rebuilt EDI," Tali mumbled.

"I would prefer not to be rebuilt again," EDI said neutrally. "But I would be happy to speak to Shepard. I have been meaning to suggest improvements to our assault strategy."

"Maybe it would be best is someone with...natural emotions, talked to her," Tali interjected quickly.

"Oh, shit, engines stalling, targeting offline, communications failing, kkksskdsf," Joker garbled into he speaker.

The speaker snapped off, and Kaidan accepted his fate. Mercenaries were usually an easy job, since most of them were distracted with squabbling over deals and territory. This group was different, packing high grade weapons and top of the line tech, and a sense of military organization that Kaidan almost envied when fighting alongside Jack and Grunt.

"Anybody have alcohol?" Kaidan asked hopefully.

"Not that you can have," Jack snapped.

"No," Tali said quickly.

"Well...." Garrus straightened when Tali shot him what was probably a glare. "Right...um, no fresh out."

"Only medical grade," Mordin said, tapping his lips thoughtfully.

"Krogan imports are hard to come by," Grunt rumbled resentfully.

"Naaah, can't drink on duty," Vega said, elbowing Cortez when he snorted. "Esteban might-"

"What?!" Cortez shouted, adding, "Sorry, _no_ " when he saw Kaidan's hopeful expression.

Liara shook her head remorsefully, and Kaidan bid farewell to the last of his private store of whisky. Snagging two glasses from the dining hall as the others sympathized over safety in the med bay, Kaidan helped himself to a sip on his way up to Commander Finn Shepard's cabin. Squaring his shoulders, Kaidan knocked on the door.

He heard Shepard trip over something and swear, then a loud crash and a second curse. The door opened before the elevator did.

"Out," Shepard ordered flatly.

"I thought we could use a quick drink," Kaidan held up his offering.

"Out!!" Shepard pointed to the arrived elevator when she saw Kaidan's smile.

"Jeez, give me some credit," Kaidan ducked under Shepard's arm and walked into the cabin. "I'll just bar tend and go."

"Suuuure," Shepard grumbled doubtfully, adding, "Never heard that one before" under her breath.

Kaidan held the whisky under Shepard's nose, pouring until whisky threatened to run over the lip of the glass when Shepard didn't stop him. Shepard's tired glower softened, and she sighed happily with the first sip, sitting on the couch and leaving space for Kaidan to join her. Kaidan poured the dregs of the whisky for himself and took a seat, peering over Shepard's shoulder as her eyes flicked over a data pad containing the list of supplies the mysterious mercenaries had stolen.

"Who was on the comm?" Kaidan asked.

"The Council," Shepard said through pursed lips, taking another swig of booze. " _Competent_  mercs get them concerned."

"Huh," Kaidan grunted, almost impressed. It took effort to stir the Council from their comfortable disinterest in on-site security. "So they'll send backup?"

"Ha!!" Shepard laughed, clinking glasses with Kaidan for the joke and tossing the datapad aside. Kaidan lifted his arm to give Shepard a place to lean, lowering it when Shepard leaned back instead of into him, asking guiltily, "How's Garrus?"

"Already thinking up new stories to tell at the bar," Kaidan assured. "Vega suggested something about wrestling a varren..."

"I guess he has tapped out the 'I was shot at' story," Shepard admitted guiltily. "Bet Tali loves that."

"She suggested saying he'd wrestled a krogan," Kaidan laughed. "Grunt offered to make the story...convincing."

Shepard smiled shortly over her drink, leaning over and grabbing the data pad to stare at again. She looked tired, even hours after the battle, her dark hair escaping from where it was hastily pulled back, and dark circles forming under eyes. Tapping her finger on the glass, Shepard mumbled, "They have to be making something..."

"Mordin and Tali are already trying to make blueprints," Kaidan gently tugged the data pad out of Shepard's grip. "Between a quarian and a salarian, I'm sure they're the most qualified."

"Hmm," Shepard cocked an eyebrow. "That almost sounded like a criticism, Major."

"No, a tactical assessment," Kaidan said. "For the good of the mission...ma'am."

Shepard nodded into her glass, setting it down and asking lightly, "They threw you under the bus, didn't they?"

"Me? What bus?" Kaidan asked, leaning back to avoid Shepard and get the last drops of whisky.

"To deal with me," Shepard said, putting on a serious scowl over a smirk. "Nobody wanted to risk their neck."

"For you, we'd all-"

" _From_ me," Shepard corrected, leaning over and quickly pecking Kaidan on the lips apologetically.

"Worth it," Kaidan assured finishing his last sip of whisky and kissing Shepard again.

Grimacing good-naturedly after Kaidan let go, Shepard finished her drink and set the glass on the table with a heavy thunk. "Can't say I blame them."

"We'll get them," Kaidan assured, setting the datapad on his other side, out of Shepard's reach and stacking his glass in hers. "We always do."

"Probably the only reason the Council keeps us around," Shepard noted, undoing the top button of her uniform and cracking her neck.

Sighing heavily, Shepard got up from the couch, snapping open the remaining buttons of her uniform and dropping it next to the drawers, sitting on the edge of her bed in a bra and slacks to untie her boots. Looking up and catching Kaidan looking, Shepard cautioned, "Don't get excited."

"Just...appreciating the view," Kaidan complimented.

"Yeah?" Shepard laughed, throwing her shirt to hit Kaidan in the face. "Put your tongue back in before you..."

Kaidan winced and Shepard trailed off, concentrating on untying her boots and kicking them under the bed. Shaking the rumpled shirt, Kaidan felt tiredness hit him anew, years of tiredness, crashing into his already pounding head. They could use Ashley, right about now. They could always have used Ashley, laying down the hard line where Kaidan couldn't and Shepard hated to. Shepard threw her second boot under the bed sharply, the mood in the cabin reverting to crackling frustration.

"I'll take this down to Mordin," Kaidan offered, scooping up the offending datapad and the glasses, wandering over to Shepard as she lined up her boots neatly. "He's looking into their armor, maybe this will point him in the right direction."

Shepard nodded, raking back her hair and standing up, looking to the empty bottle of whisky hopefully. Kaidan shook it apologetically, opening his arms and trapping Shepard with her back to the bed, quickly dropping a kiss on her temple.

"The list will still be there in the morning," Kaidan assured. "Sleep on it."

Kaidan grinned when Shepard grabbed his belt, yanking him back as he turned for the door, asking, "And just where do you think you're going?"

"Bar tend and go," Kaidan sagely reminded, letting Shepard steal another kiss before he feigned going for the door. "I'm a man of my word, Commander."

"Damn you," Shepard groused affectionately, letting Kaidan go after a final kiss and a pat on his ass as he left.

Kaidan kept on a good face until he had reached his quarters in the observation deck, before leaning his head against the window glass and groaning. L-2 headaches came in a variety of forms, from sharp jabs of pain to an itching under the skull, and this, a steady burning that made Kaidan taste blood. It was better than mopping up his brain after it poured out his ears, he admitted. Kaidan squeezed his eyes shut and straightened up as he heard the door hiss open behind him, turning in surprise when he saw Jack's reflection in the window.

"You look like shit," Jack observed, dropping to sit on Kaidan's bed and leaning forward to observe him. "After someone's stepped in it."

"We don't all have ink to hide the aging," Kaidan grunted, tapping his fist on the wall.

"You wish your old ass ever looked this good," Jack sneered, looking down and tracing her tattoos fondly.

"Wait 'til your thirties sneak up on you," Kaidan chuckled, clamping his teeth down when that hurt.

"Bring 'em on," Jack challenged. "You were probably this uptight in the crib."

Kaidan shrugged, leaning against the wall, waiting for Jack to make her point. Kaidan and Jack hadn't seen eye to eye at first, the convict who liked to cut loose and the straight edge who had learned not to the hard way. To make relations worse, Kaidan was from the early age of biotics, and Jack wasn't awed about meeting a pioneer in the field that made her life a living hell. But biotics and Shepard were a common ground, and Jack liked, as she put it, "trying to twist the stick out of Kaidan's ass."

"Bio Brainfreeze? So glad I don't get those," Jack got up, pacing around Kaidan and knocking her knuckles against the wall to make him flinch and confirm her suspicions. Gyrating her hips in Kaidan's direction, she asked, "You give her the old 'headache' excuse, or are you done that fast?"

"The day didn't really set the mood," Kaidan explained.

"Huh, you're one of _those_ guys," Jack lamented, bouncing on her feet energetically and punching the air. "Wanna fight, get some of that repressed sexual frustration out?"

"I don't think the Normandy would survive, if Joker let you," Kaidan said through gritted teeth.

"Eh, fuck 'im," Jack shrugged, crossing her arms sternly before adding, "Wanna fuck? Doctor's orders?"

Kaidan could see Jack trying not to laugh at the idea, tilting her head and tightening her crossed arms under the strap of her top, emphasizing her breasts. His head hurt to much for this.

"You're not really my type," Kaidan evaded, restng his head on the window again.

"Yeah, like you're mine and I was really offering," Jack sneered caustically, dropping her arms in annoyance as Kaidan refused to bite. Tapping her boot on the floor, Jack ordered, "Alright, let's go."

"Go?" Kaidan asked reluctantly.

"Yup," Jack said firmly, hooking her arm with Kaidan's and dragging him out of the room. "You can count shots between me and Grunt. I have money on me."

"No alcohol, huh?" Kaidan grumbled.

"That you could have," Jack reminded. "Maybe a shot, to put some hair on your balls, if we can find them."

Kaidan glanced wistfully over his shoulder at his bed, muttering protests half-heartedly while Jack dragged him to the opposite observation deck, now the official Normandy lounge. Garrus muttered over the cards in his hand, shamefacedly making a bet when he saw Kaidan. Grunt had already lined up shot glasses, a tumbler of bright blue liquor waiting to be used, and the young krogan barking at Jack to move her ass. Tali sipped a bright green drink, staring down the straw and muttering, "Remind me to flush my filters," to Garrus. Cortez nodded and passed Kaidan a shot glass of tequila when Kaidan took a seat next to him, whistling at Vega for another glass of his own.

"You found it," Kaidan nodded, knocking back the shot.

"Er...James did some digging, yeah," Cortez bubbled into his drink.

"Hey, he made it out alive, didn't he?" Vega pointed out, pouring Kaidan another drink as a peace offering, lowering his voice in response to Kaidan's pained look, "Didn't take you for a tequila man."

"I'm not picky right now, Lieutenant," Kaidan admitted, dropping his glass on the table top.

Vega didn't fire a quip back for once, pouring Kaidan another serving and giving himself a swig. Kaidan rubbed at his temples, watching in amusement as Liara politely robbed Garrus and Tali blind and Jack sloshed booze into the shot glasses.

"Robert used to say 'drink to celebrate, drink to commiserate,'" Cortez observed, mustering up a small smile.

"My kind of guy," Vega chimed in, adding hastily. "Well, not my kind of guy, y'know, but I can get behind that...er..."

"Sounds like he would've fit in around here," Kaidan talked over Vega's stuttering.

"I like to think so," Cortez nodded, shaking himself out of his growing melancholy. "Guess it's commiserate this time around, anyway."

Kaidan grunted in agreement, holding up seven fingers when Jack looked at him expectantly. Vega saved the tequila and held it aloft as the bar shook from the force of Grunt's fist crashing down to demand more shots. Vega gladly took the out, struggling to keep ahead of Jack and Grunt tossing aside shot glasses as fast as he could pour them and steal one of his own.

"Just what we need," Shepard observed from the doorway. "A drunk krogan."

"Buzzkill," Jack accused over the brief hush as Shepard joined the poker game.

"Krogans don't get drunk," Grunt said, glowering at the bottle in Vega's hand until Vega poured another serving. "Just more fun."

"I think I've heard that from every species," Garrus mused to Shepard as he dealt her into the game. "It usually doesn't end that way."

The room relaxed following Shepard's laughter, turning back to their games and commisorations now that they had permission to enjoy themselves. Cortez pointed a warning just before the pill canister would have hit Kaidan in the forehead.

"Get a jump on that headache, Major," Shepard snapped the edges of her cards, adding chips to the table and swigging from Liara's glass, grinning and handing the asari the empty wine glass. "Before the hangover."

"Oooooh," Vega laughed as Kaidan tossed the pills in his hands. "Busted!"

"She is good," Cortez pushed a fresh glass of tequila towards Kaidan.

"She is," Kaidan agreed, tossing the pills down his throat and clinking glasses with Vega and Cortez for another round if his head was going to hurt anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do we have to do this?" Wash asked, tugging at his jacket collar and whining.

"You're the one that begged to come ashore," Carolina reminded, patting her belt fussily and tugging at the single holster, feeling up her back for her missing guns. "Don't complain."

"But-"

"Or you can wear the heels," South threatened, stomping her foot down and looking around her in distaste.

Waiting for Carolina to turn her back and go over the objective with South and Maine before he grimaced, Wash shared South's disgust. Omega was a place one came to get infections and information, and Wash thought they'd be lucky to get off this dump with only the latter. And without a bullet to the head. Looking down at his leather jacket, tight slacks, and plain shirt, Wash thought longingly of his armor. But armor like theirs was conspicuous, and the idea was to blend in.

This was strictly an AI free mission. The idea was to keep a low profile, not advertise Delta and Theta to every sensor and spy in the area. Carolina was up for implantation next, eagerly awaiting the new addition, but first, he had to be created. Him. Her? Did AI's have gender?? Delta and Theta certainly thought-

"Wash!" South called, jolting Wash out of his thoughts from the end of the dock. "Before these clothes go out of style!"

Wash wasn't sure his clothes had ever been in style, given the looks he was getting. Carolina and South were dressed to kill, and Maine warded off stares with a deadly glare of his own, but Wash had been given a jacket several sizes too big, and his junk was beginning to chafe.

"Where're we meeting these goons?" Wash asked, swatting South off when she tried to stop him from messing with his collar. " _Afterlife_ , I could use a drink."

"Yeah, that's what Aria likes," Carolina scoffed. "Deals on her turf."

"The entire station is her turf," Wash mumbled, shoving his hands in his sagging pockets and feeling the pathetic pistol bump against his hip.

The others ignored him, and Carolina led the way down to the lower markets. The bar was the nicest part of this rusting dump, Wash thought as he stepped over what might be garbage, or perhaps a rat and lurched out of the way of a vorcha.

"Move, human!!" the vorcha took offense anyway, spraying Wash with slobber. "Get lost, get lost!"

"I wish," Wash mopped off his face, squawking when Maine yanked him along by the scruff of the neck. "Take it easy, man!"

"Keep up," Maine ordered as harshly as the vorcha, shoving Wash to walk alongside South and watching the vorcha carefully until it scuttled off.

South stuck her hand in Wash's pocket, pinning him to her as they walked past a junk shop and into even danker alleys. Wash could feel the ceiling and floor rattling around him from the club, and South relaxed her grip as Wash stopped trying to wander to avoid a gang of krogan lumbering by them.

"Don't stare," Carolina advised, skirting a pile of filth. "It makes your head a perfect target."

"I could beat them to the draw," Wash bragged.

"Not if they headbutt you first," South warned, steering Wash down an alley. "Blech, it'll take all day to wash out the stink of this place, are you sure it's worth it?"

"They have tech, and a beef with a turian sniper and a maimed salarian," Carolina reminded. "You got a better idea?"

"Sure," South said, "Pick a target, plant a bomb, blow the fuckers to kingdom come when they try and crash the party."

"We're mercs, not major terrorists," Carolina corrected sharply, primly stepping over a quarian scrounging for something on the floor.

"It gets the job done," South pointed out, pointing at Maine triumphantly when the man grunted in agreement.

Carolina shook her head, muttering, "Let's just see what these assholes have," as she took a seat on a pile of crumbling crates, flicking her lighter open and shut. South took up a post at the end of the corridor, irritably smoothing her dress over the holster on her leg. Wash took the other end of the alley, avoiding eye contact with a drunk turian and praying he didn't get puked on to make this day worse.

Wash didn't even know who they were waiting for. A krogan who was in a merc gang around here. But there were no shortage of krogans stomping by, and it was hard to tell a civilian krogan from a mercenary krogan, if such a thing existed. Flapping his coat, Wash gauged Carolina's reaction as he took the coat off, folding it over his arm to conceal the gun. Carolina allowed it, distracted by the newest krogan stalking towards them.

He looked like every other krogan to Wash, but Carolina was more interested, rising from her seat and snapping the lighter shut, looking over her shoulder to make sure Maine was at her side. Maine sized up the krogan, calmly taking out a machine gun and angling it at the floor in front of the krogan's feet as he got close and two more krogans joined him.

"Guuuh," the krogan sighed, bobbing his head when Maine growled back at him. "Humans..."

"Gnassus?" Carolina asked, stuffing the lighter in her pocket and cuffing dirt from her pants, brushing her fingers over her gun in the shadows.

"Who wants to know?" the krogan demanded, bearing his teeth at Carolina. "You aren't looking to set up around here, are you?"

"Like hell," Carolina scoffed, spitting on the floor. "There, that's the cleanest spot around here."

Wash prickled with nerves as the krogan watched the spit bubble on the floor between his and Carolina's feet. South gripped her holster tensely as the krogan barked harshly, dropping her hand and shaking her head at Wash before he had a chance to draw his pistol. Wash wiped sweat off his hands as he realized the krogan was laughing, the two krogans on either side staying silent, and Carolina barely hiding her annoyance.

"Pretty cocky for someone who has the Archangel and that crazy scientist on their tail," Gnassus snorted and added a loogie to Carolina's puddle.

"Archangel?" Wash mouthed to South, frowning when she shrugged in shared confusion.

Carolina seemed to recognize the name, or faked recognition convincingly, and Gnassus gargled with laughter again, crooking his claw at Carolina and turning for the even darker passages where Wash had been hoping not to go. The left krogan stooge moved to Carolina's other side, taking a step away when Maine snarled, "I'll walk there" at him. Wash waited for South to move before he started to follow, reaching back to grab his jacket.

If Wash hadn't known better, he would have guessed that Gnassus was leading them down the garbage chute. The crowd thinned even further, and Wash swore he felt the stairs shift beneath his feet as the group descended into a narrow maintanence shaft.

"Let's hope one doesn't fart," he muttered to South as they followed the krogans in single file.

"Great, thanks," South spat. "And I was just afraid we'd get stuck in this shit hole."

Wash and South obediently shushed when Maine hissed at them, the sound bouncing off the metal walls as the passage widened, maintenance lights flickering overhead. Tipping his head back, Wash whistled at the rusting catwalks that crossed over their heads. Shaking a shower of dust out of his face, Wash followed the group into a room cluttered with arms parts, rusting armor, and piles of rags.

"You got the payment?" Gnassus asked, holding out his hand insistently.

"Why all the secrecy?" Carolina asked suspiciously, reaching for her gun as the door shuddered closed.

"Damn rookies," one of the bodyguards spat.

Gnassus chuckled coldly in his throat, but sounded grim as he said, "Aria has a soft spot for the commander you mentioned, and never lifted a damn finger against Archangel or the lizard for us."

Carolina twisted the credit chit in her pocket, tossing it to Gnassus and crossing her arms expectantly. Gnassus peered at the chit, his omnitool glowing before he nodded curtly, squirreling the cash away.

"Well?" South snapped. "Who's this Archangel punk?"

"We thought his corpse had been picked clean," Gnassus grunted. "It's the only reason recruiting hasn't been useless, that vigilante scum is supposed to be history."

"What makes you think it's the same guy?" Carolina asked doubtfully, eyeing the place where Gnassus had stuffed their deposit. "Half the turians popped out are snipers."

"Not like that son of a bitch," Gnassus said venomously.

"Got a name?"

"If I knew his name, we'd have tracked him down and ripped him limb from limb," Gnassus promised. "People called him Archangel, and if you got close enough to ask, you probably didn't have a head."

"What about the salarian?" Carolina asked irritably. "Anything useful on him?"

Gnassus ground his teeth with a harsh crunch over Carolina's irked tone, gnashing them when Maine stepped closer. South straightened up from her sullen slump, flicking the safety off of her gun as a krogan body guard lumbered closer.

"He's a doctor, Mordin Solus," Gnassus explained, squinting at Carolina forbiddingly. "Never know whether he'll give you a shot or shoot you between the eyes."

"Military?" Carolina asked.

"Probably," Gnassus nodded. "Rumor has it he was a big shot in the salarian special forces."

"Then how'd he end up here?" Wash asked.

The corner of Carolina's mouth jerked down, causing Wash to flinch more than the glare of the krogan commander. Gnassus examined Wash, turning his head to fix the young man in his sights.

"I don't like listening to salarians chatter," Gnassus's temper made Wash's chest vibrate. "You'll have to ask him yourself, if he feels like talking when you find him. Most salarians do..."

Wash gulped, staring into the sharp red eye until Gnassus blinked and turned back to Carolina, as if Wash had never existed. Wash shot South a look, only making himself feel worse when he saw her seething temper. Wash guessed he hadn't earned the right to go off script yet.

"What about their boss?" Carolina asked. "At this rate, we're paying you by the word, and way too much."

Wash expected another enraged rumble, and his heart only sank further when Gnassus erupted in course laughter again, his two attendants chuckling appreciatively. Carolina remained cool, but South's hand was crawling over her gun again, and Maine's hand was drifting for his. Gnassus's towering shoulders shook, his crest clacking against his armor plates.

"What system have you been hiding in since the Crash?" Gnassus asked. "They don't have a 'boss,' they're sanctioned by the Council."

"Ok, leader," Carolina's irritation matched the krogan's. "Not the top, but the leader in the field."

Gnassus' expression only got more incredulous, one of his companions daring to shoot him a look of confusion. Gnassus throat rippled and bulged as he swallowed and grumbled, fixing Carolina in his gaze doubtfully.

"I don't like people wasting my time," Gnassus warned.

"That makes two of us," Carolina reminded. "I'd just ask them, but they have this annoying habit of trying to shoot us upon sight. That keeps me busy."

Gnassus grated in his throat again, but shifted his bulk uncomfortably. Wash glanced at South to see if now was the time to make good on drawing their weapons, reaching for his gun as the krogan backed South into her corner. Gnassus grunted a command, waving his hand over his shoulder to call off his minions before they reached South.

"Funny attitude for the one asking us for help," Gnassus nodded his head at South. "You'd be better off crawling back into whatever wormhole-"

"That's not an option," Carolina snapped as South opened her mouth to argue. "So give us a name and the upgrades, or we take a refund."

Gnassus snapped his head back to Carolina too late, and Maine's gun was already leveled and pointing between his eyes. Gnassus raised his lip in a silent snarl as he watched Maine put his finger on the trigger. Wash wrenched his gun out of the holster, pointing it at the nearest krogan's green crest.

"Don't know what good the name will do you," Gnassus said. "It's never helped anyone else who got on the wrong side of Commander Shepard."

"Comm-" Wash blurted, tightening his hand on his pistol and staring at the krogan in front of him when Carolina hissed.

"The Commander Shepard?" Wash wondered how Carolina sounded so cool, when he was wondering if relatives would take him in when the money stopped and the warrant went through.

"Never heard of another one," Gnassus grunted, relaxing from his defensive pose as Maine slowly lowered his gun now that the krogans were cooperating. "One's enough to be a pain in the ass."

Wash resisted the urge to kick Carolina, wondering why they were even having this discussion. Commander Shepard wasn't a name. It was a legend, practically a myth, or it could be if Wash hadn't been able to vividly remember the fall of the Reapers three years before. Planets were still salvaging materials from the remains of the giant machines, and Earth remained several major cities short. It was part of what made the AI project such an undertaking; outer colonies were still configuring more complex techology from before the Crash, the central cities had only just started innovating technology again. Artificial Intelligence wasn't a priority.

It was even harder to forget the news footage of Shepard, more of a charred corpse than the picturesque commander, being dragged from the smoking remnants of the Citadel. Admiral Anderson's body, or what was left of it, had been found a few hours later. The news had had mourned quickly, reserving the bulk of their time on speculating on Shepard's chances of survival. The highest estimate had been a generous fifteen percent. Shepard's condition had been reported as stable two weeks later.

 _We are so out of our league_ , Wash realized as his stomach fell through the floor alongside South's hushed curse.

"A nickname, Mordin Solus, and Commander Shepard," Carolina said thoughtfully, sighing sharply. "Guess the military has to do something with ex-soldiers. Info next."

Wash was gratified that South looked at him for help this time, and Gnassus balked in surprise. Only Carolina and Maine seemed to be on the same page, Carolina whistling sharply when Gnassus hesitated. Carolina smiled coldly, and Wash couldn't decide if it was good or bad that Gnassus was nodding slowly as he brought up his omnitool again, punching in commands.

"A salarian firm is working on an advanced diagnostics program, for things still wrong from going to hell," Gnassus warned. "Some prototype that targets and isolates errors."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Carolina said, glancing over her screen, shutting it briskly. "Why isn't it on the market?"

"Said it isolated the errors,' Gnassus shuffled his feet. "Didn't say it fixed them."

"Awesome," South grumbled. "A faulty program to fix faulty programs. That's not an upgrade."

"You wanted the intel, you got it," Gnassus, opening the door and waving the freelancers out. "Now get off of Omega."

"Worried we'll bring Shepard down on your operation?" Carolina looked around the filthy bunker critically.

"Sweetheart," Gnassus grumbled, motioning Carolina to go infront of him in the narrow passage, losing his amusement when Maine hung back to be behind the krogans. "If Shepard has her sights on you, I wouldn't waste your worry on us."

Carolina laughed confidently, walking away from Gnassus and his goons without a backwards glance, leaving that to Maine and South. Wash flicked a salute to the krogan bodyguards as he darted between them to catch up, glancing over his shoulder to watch the trio fade into the crowd.

"Now what?" South asked, stealing the spot on Carolina's left before Wash could.

"We get back to base and plan to hit the salarian firm," Carolina quirked an eyebrow at South. "Let the boss decide what he wants to do with Shepard."

"Wants to do....we're talking about the same Shepard, right?" Wash asked, elbowing his way to talk over Carolina's shoulder, swinging his coat to whip a drunk batarian out of his path.

"We just went over this with that dinosaur, Wash," Carolina sighed. "Yes, we are talking about 'the same' Shepard."

"The Shepard that brought the Reapers to their knees and then skull fucked them into the Stone Age?" Wash clarified.

"Do Reapers have knees?" Carolina asked loftily. "Or skulls?"

"We're not even talking about this?" South asked in disbelief.

"Sure, we're talking about how to deal with it. But we don't choose the jobs," Carolina said. "If the Director wants us to deal with Shepard personally, we'll-"

"Have a hell of a eulogy," South spat. "Here lie the dumbasses who took on the only cyborg insane enough to be at the center of a universal EMP that wrecked the galaxy's collective shit, and still give death the finger."

"The quarians managed," Carolina pointed out casually. "And they've lived with life support systems for so long they don't have faces."

Wash straightening his face when Carolina shot him a forbidding look over her shoulder. Carolina didn't take insubordination from anyone but York, North...never mind, Wash spared himself further annoyance. If anything, instead of looking appropriately terrified after finding out who they were up against, Carolina looked more interested in Shepard and her crew.

"What's with the faces?" Carolina asked when South and Wash regrouped. "It's not like we have to carry out a hit on her."

"Yet," Wash groused.

"We already leave in a tin can in the middle of nowhere," South said. "I don't think prison gets better if you kill the hero of the galaxy."

"Then we won't go to prison," Carolina pointed out. "That was never part of my plan anyway."

South growled a wordless response, ducking her head when Carolina looked at her sharply. Wash knew when to stop trying and leave talking sense into Carolina to York. It never worked, but it was better than risking his own neck. Grinding his teeth, Wash brushed off his arm when a salatian claw snagged his skin as they brushed by.

"Oh you've got to be..." Wash groaned, looking down at his other bare arm. "Where the fuck...?"

Looking back, Wash tried to decide if he wanted to dig through stomping feet and a dirt encrusted floor for a coat that had probably only cost ten credits and been dug out of a bargain bin. Glancing over the floor, Wash happily took South's reprimanding, "Wash!!" as an excuse and ran to catch up.

 

 

 

  
"You're kidding," York said to the quartet in front of him, painfully forcing a chuckle. "Right? Tell me she's kidding. Ha!! Kidding."

York looked around hopefully, grinning at Carolina and glancing at the other three. Connie was staring too, but angrily, in a way that made Wash glad to be out of range. North seemed to have flown straight through disbelief into over thinking. Delta was looking between the humans, and Theta was oblivious to the tension in the room, gliding on his skateboard from one of North's shoulders to the other while South ranted in her brother's ear.

"Heart rates suggest-"

"Shut it, D," York snapped, and Delta blinked off indignantly. "What, did you all turn into Maine?"

"No," Maine gargled, leaving his answer at that.

York raised his eyebrows expectantly for a better explanation, frowning at Maine's grinding growl when he stared to long. North hissed something sharply to South while Connie zeroed in on Wash, jutting out her chin.

"Maybe Gnassus is kidding, krogans do have stupid sense of humor," Carolina finally admitted, shrugging apathetically.

York's mouth fell open, a half-hearted croak of disbelief escaping in Carolina's face. Wash swore and lurched away from Connecticut's grab for him, twisting and throwing her over his back as she tried to wrench him into a headlock. Theta disappeared with a flash and North shouted in frustration, shoving Connecticut back as she got up and yelling, "Carolina!" as he gave Wash the same treatment, holding his hands out between the two agents to keep them a wingspan apart.

"What is with you guys?" Carolina asked with an eye roll, stepping to keep Connecticut at bay as she sized North up and Wash rose from where North had shoved him. "This doesn't change anything."

"Uh, like hell it doesn't!" Connecticut shouted, picking herself up from the floor and lunging into North's arm.

"We've gone up against military before," Carolina pointed out.

"Yeah, military," York agreed. "Not a demigod, Jesus, Carolina!"

"She's not a demigod," Carolina snorted dismissively. "She's good. We're better."

"Even Wyoming isn't that stupid," South contradicted, her quip losing its punch with Wyoming absent.

"Two days ago, you wanted to tear her throat out," Carolina reminded.

"Oh, I still do," South assured. "But I don't want to face a public execution for it."

Carolina rolled her eyes, unstrapping her holster and drawing her weapon, dismantling it as she talked, ignoring South's seething temper, Connecticut's venomous looks at Wash, and North still playing ref in between them.

"We haven't lost anyone yet, have we?" Carolina asked calmly, tucking back her bangs.

"No..." North said reluctantly, pushing Wash to sit when the younger man got too close to Connecticut. "Don't make me deck either of you!"

"We don't even know if Archangel is alive after what North did to him," Carolina said proudly, shrugging when North's ego proved more resilient than his sister's and he didn't soften. "We wanted to know who they were. It's a win."

"It's a sign to get the hell out of dodge," Connecticut grumbled, walking away from North and sitting in a chair with a huff.

Wash slumped in his seat, letting North turn to deal with a sulking South. York frowned, glaring at Carolina's hands as she reassembled her gun, still ignoring the dirty looks from her crew. Wash was with Connecticut on this one, if she would stop trying to pummel him for answers. He hadn't signed up to go against the Alliance forces. Quick contracts, easy money, retirement after a few years with enough to live easily.

Connecticut and York had even more at stake. Mercenaries had to come from somewhere, and it was no secret that Connie and York had military training. Connie was Alliance born and bred, and she'd lost a brother and a cousin on a colonial base during the Collector attacks. York had been special operations, and didn't talk about it much, but his hacking skills had to come from somewhere. It was better not to ask about Carolina. If they were caught, they wouldn't just be criminals to put down, an example would have to be made. And Wash thought he'd made a bad life choice running with smugglers.

"It's not like we're looking at a cushy prison stay if we're caught anyway," Carolina reminded, pointing at the Twins. "Taking out companies' private security still counts as murder, even if they're freelance like us."

"Don't be stupid," North snapped, surprising them all with a rare burst of temper. "Mercs picking each other off isn't news. Killing Shepard? Yeah, some heads are going to roll."

"We're not going after Shepard," Carolina reasoned. "If she wants to leave us alone, I'm game."

"And if she doesn't?" York snapped.

"Then it's just part of the job, and we take the risk," Carolina twirled her gun back into the holster."Same with everything else we do. We just know the name of the problem is all, which'll make research on it a hell of a lot easier."

The entire company stewed uncomfortably when Carolina finally looked at them, her eyes steely and closing down any more snarls in her direction. Maine rumbled what sounded like agreement. Then again, Maine had the constitution of a krogan, always eager for the next fight, regardless of the opponent. North was still stewing, but South had come out of her cloud of anger, whispering with North again. She and North had modified weapons and run supplies on the black market for years and that came with a body count. They'd be lucky to get life sentences even before they had joined this outfit.

"What about Archangel and the doctor?" York asked doubtfully, shuffling unhappily when North glared at him for showing Carolina that resistance was weakening.

"Hey, maybe the turian's already dead," Carolina's second attempt to praise North went over as well as the first. "Or not, but we probably broke off some of his frills. And unless they turn to biowarfare, the doc's just a doc with a gun. Salarian's aren't exactly the brunt if the military might."

Wash felt the mood in the room shift, and risked looking at Connecticut. South had stopped prowling around North, York was thinking instead of gaping and had pulled Delta back out, and North had stopped fuming, Theta reappearing as his handler and the crowd relaxed. Connecticut still looked furious, biting at her nails and shaking her foot as she thought.

Carolina felt the change too, going to stand by York and saying more conversationally, "The job's the same. And we're damn good at it. If the Blood Pack can stand Shepard, we can."

"You're talking about the new Blood Pack," Connecticut reminded. "The old Blood Pack disintegrated after Shepard made them shit their own teeth-"

"They aren't in prison," Carolina reminded.

"And they weren't toeing the line of treason by making a new gen of AI," Connecticut pointed to Delta and Theta. "Machines in our heads, melding with our consciousness...no, that doesn't sound eerily familiar to anyone?"

"You wanted to be part of the program," Wash spoke up.

"Yeah, but I'm not the fucking government," Connecticut snapped. "There's a reason this shit takes weeks to track down and get. Facilities are still petitioning for the right to have automated assistants, and the Council is shitting itself."

"We aren't going to get scrapped, are we?" Theta asked nervously in North's ear.

"Nah," North assured. "You aren't geth."

"Cause people love distinguishing between synthetics," Connecticut said.

"We are not that sort of program," Delta added, acknowledging Connecticut instead of Theta. "I respond to Agent York's thought patterns, habits, and commands. I am unable to direct his."

"Have you tried?!" York shouted.

"No," Delta responded, adding matter-of-factly, "It is not my prerogative. I am installed for your convenience."

"Really?" York asked doubtfully, now that he had regained the ability to be sarcastic. "Could have fooled me."

"....Theoretically," Delta admitted. "Incalculable variables make a seamless pairing unlikely."

Carolina clapped her hands as if that solved something, muttering, "Whoever made heels should die," and walking off, adding, "Delta, see what records you can get on Shepard, Mordin Solus, and the Archangel, and their primary contacts. Asari, the quarian, you're logic based, do your thing. The Director wants to see me."

"Of course," Delta said, blinking away from York to the computer, flickering along with the screen as he accessed the databases at their disposal.

York looked between his AI and Carolina, then his stony faced comrades, groaning when North cleared his throat. Whimpering to himself, York checked that Delta was safely working before jogging after Carolina, grabbing her arm when she ignored his shout and saying something to her in hushed tones. He looked angry, at least, Wash considered.

"If we're lucky, it's to tell her to back off," Connecticut spat, getting out of her chair and giving North a wide berth as she went to exit.

Wash tried to shrink as Connecticut passed, cuffing him on the shoulder as she went. Maine waited for her to cut in front of him, then followed, unperturbed by Connie's snapped, "Anything else??" at him. North tapped his hands together, looking from South, to Wash, then at Theta on his shoulder, who was watching Delta attentively as the older AI worked silently, dimming himself when he caught the agents looking at him.

"Yeah...like we're that lucky," North kicked the wall, stomping out of the room and dragging South with him, leaving Wash to contemplate his mortality in Delta's green glow.


	4. Chapter 4

Kasumi Goto perched on a stack of boxes, looking over the crowds of Omega and sighing contentedly. Things were always interesting here. Omega was a melting pot of species, goods, and moralities, and Kasumi was happy to stand on the fringes and watch it unfold.

Kasumi smiled and dropped off the crates, slipping under elbows and stepping over knees, barely brushing the crowd around her until she was walking in Vega's shadow, enjoying the space around the muscled marine. He wasn't Jacob, Kasumi thought mournfully, but Kasumi enjoyed playing with Vega's childish energy.

Garrus saw her first, doing a double take when he glanced her way after being jostled. Kasumi put a finger to her lips, widening her eyes pleadingly when Garrus opened his mouth in Vega's direction. Garrus cleared his throat, blinking innocently when Vega asked, "Don't like recycled air either, Scars?" missing Kasumi out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, no," Garrus assured. "I thought I saw something, but you know me. Paranoid."

Kasumi ducked out from behind Vega, switching on her cloaking when he turned faster than she expected after Garrus unconsciously looked in her direction. Shepard was already smirking when Kasumi appeared at her elbow, watching Vega look around him suspiciously.

"No one said he was _observant_ ," Shepard explained affectionately.

"Then I guess it's good the Reapers were big...and loud," Kasumi said, waving at Liara on Shepard's other side. "Should we take a bet on how long until he notices?"

"I'll save my credits," Shepard laughed, leaving Vega to interrogate Garrus while she looked Kasumi over. "You look good, I thought this was an emergency?"

"Did I say emergency?" Kasumi tried to remember. "That must have been Aria, you should ask her."

"Yeah....we'll just say it was an emergency," Shepard decided, checking her sidearm.

"Heeey, Klepto, we found you," Vega finally noticed, grinning down at Kasumi proudly.

"You think we found her?" Garrus asked, shrugging when Vega scowled at him. "What's the phrase? Say something stupid, get called stupid?"

"Ask a stupid question...go mess with someone else," Vega waved Garrus away from him, muttering at the smug turian.

"I like your version better. What happened to your eye?" Kasumi asked. She liked Garrus, he had an excellent sense of humor, especially for a turian. He had added new battle scars to his face, marring his good eye.

"Disagreement with Grunt," Garrus said, looking at the floor bashfully when Kasumi shook her head in disbelief. "Or...maybe I got shot again. Which sounds better?"

"Getting shot," Kasumi said truthfully. "You'd be stupid to fight Grunt."

"It's best not to keep Aria waiting," Liara reminded, adding bitterly. "She might decide to make the information worth her while."

Shepard nodded, calling Vega back into formation with a jerk of her head. Walking beside Shepard, Kasumi could see mercenaries and petty criminals whispering among themselves and scurrying for their hidey-holes. Kasumi would be more afraid of Liara, personally, but there was no accounting for intelligence.

Kasumi rarely went into _Afterlife_ visibly. She liked losing herself in the crowd, but the club was too loud and crowded, with no score to keep her interested. She had also gotten on the wrong side if Aria in the beginning, but once Aria knew "the thieving duct waif" wasn't interested in her operations and came with Shepard's seal of approval, the two had reached an uneasy truce. In exchange for the right not to be shot out of an airlock if Aria caught her, Kasumi didn't steal from Aria, and agreed to be Aria's eyes and ears. Kasumi humored her, anyway.

"We should have left you on the ship," Shepard admitted to Garrus under the pounding music of the club. "Everyone's looking at you."

"Let them," Garrus peered at the crowd around him. "I'm sure there's a score or two I could settle while I'm here."

"Let's focus on not making any new ones," Liara suggested, drifting closer to Shepard as a drunken customer leered at her.

Garrus nodded reluctantly, smacking Vega on the back as the younger man wandered towards the dancers platform, hastening innocently back to Shepard's flank and marching stiffly beside her, oblivious to Garrus' snickers this time.

"When we get to Aria," Kasumi said carefully to Vega. "Don't...talk.."

"Afraid I'll screw this up?" Vega asked, turning a wink into a blink when Kasumi stared blankly at his attempt to charm her.

"I was going to say 'die','" Kasumi corrected softly. "But whichever makes you listen, I suppose."

Aria T'Loak was lounging on her customary couch, regarding her kingdom coldly. Losing Omega to Cerberus and reclaiming it at high cost had done little to soften Aria's iron fist over her subjects. If her expression softened when she saw Shepard, no one would see it in the low light, or live to tell about it if they did. Aria's cold gaze rushed over Kasumi, then darted back to the rarely seen thief, lingering suspiciously before continuing to Shepard.

"Da-" Vega's comment ended in a pained grunt when Garrus stomped on his foot. "You really cleaned up since the last time I was here!"

Aria raised a critical brow at Vega's winning smile, sighing in preemptive frustration. Aria waved her hand at the seat beside her, ignoring Vega's questioning expression as Shepard took a seat. Aria's other hand motioned to Liara and Kasumi, and Kasumi took the seat on the far side of Liara, curling up her knees and resting her chin on them.

"You didn't need to bring an entourage," Aria scolded Shepard, snapping her fingers at Kasumi's feet. "This is imported, as if you didn't know."

"I've learned to prepare for anything with you, Aria," Shepard admitted, patting the seat beside her until Garrus sat down and stopped looking around him suspiciously, while Vega took a seat next to him, jiggling his leg and sneaking looks at Aria until Garrus hit him.

"It's nothing so exciting," Aria's sneer accompanied the cold reassurance. "But your hooded friend brought something to my attention, I thought I'd look into it and pass it along."

"Perhaps it would be better for everyone if we had worked through Kasumi, instead," Liara offered hopefully.

"If you only want a fraction of the information, perhaps," Aria said thoughtfully, barely glancing at Liara as she talked. "We both know it pays to know the fine details. Don't we?"

"Aw, I didn't think you cared," Shepard chuckled between them, crossing her legs casually while Liara practically buzzed with indignation.

"You misunderstand," Aria grimaced over Shepard's insinuation. Brushing off her pants and talking to the room rather than anyone in particular, Aria admitted slowly, "I owe you a....courtesy. Or two. And I don't like owing people."

Kasumi dropped her legs when she saw Aria's hand start to glow and spark in her direction. Sitting up straight on the couch, Kasumi pulled her hood around her head to hide the smile she knew Aria would see. Aria T'Loak put up one of the most successful fronts that Kasumi had ever seen on a person. But no one was apathetic to Shepard. Kasumi hadn't even had to sweeten the information before Aria had had Gnassus followed.

"Do you owe us now? Or was this advance notice?" Garrus asked when Aria let Shepard absorb the weight of her charity too long for his liking.

Aria leaned her head against her hand, unconsciously tracing one of her facial markings as she stared at Garrus like a delicacy she was trying to decide how to eat. Pointing a finger at Kasumi lazily, Aria said sweetly, "Since you want to talk to the Hooded Rat."

Aria, Shepard and Garrus looked up sharply when Vega snorted, wiping his mouth hastily and mumbling, "That just...sorry, it's a human thing," shrinking in his seat at Liara's disappointed look.

"I see," Aria observed critically, then turned to Kasumi accusingly, raising brow in a wordless "Well?"

Kasumi curled her legs up again, pointing her feet sideways to spare Aria's precious furniture. She remembered the group vividly, they had been out of place. When people tried to blend in, they didn't, and that meant they had something worth looking into. They hadn't had anything of value on them, so Kasumi had stolen the coat as a lark. It hadn't even been worth ten credits, but the time went into pilfering it had been worth it.

"There's a group of mercenaries gathering intel on you," Kasumi warned simply, hugging her knees. "A new group, the Omega gangs don't want them."

"Of course there is," Garrus drawled, sounding resigned rather than surprised. "I knew this day had a y in it somewhere..."

"Think it's the same group?" Vega asked, already working himself up for a fight.

"Must be," Shepard just sounded tired.

"It can't be coincidence," Liara nodded. "I...I supposed it could be, but it's highly unlikely."

"They're buying black market technology, if that would help you to narrow the list down," Aria sounded jealous.

"One of them was cute," Kasumi said helpfully. "Young, and not the brightest, but he was asking the right questions."

"We don't really cruise while they're shooting at us," Garrus laughed. "But we'll keep a look out."

"So you already knew about this?" Aria asked Liara accusingly, still talking outward instead of to Liara directly.

"Of them. What they were doing on Omega, I couldn't say," Liara said calmly. "I leave that to you, don't I?"

"Why _were_ they on Omega?" Shepard quickly headed off another fight. Kasumi pressed her knees into Liara's leg and the asari jumped, biting her lip in embarrassment, while Aria pressed her lips together in a grim line. "Shouldn't they be going after places like Port Hanshan for tech info?"

"You need the information to steal it first," Kasumi tapped her feet together, ignoring Aria's frown for speaking out of turn. "Building blueprints, security lay out, what's worth stealing. More goes into a heist than just walking into the building. That usually just makes security hate you...or shoot at you."

"What group?" Shepard asked. "You hold the reins of all the local gangs...Cerberus dregs?"

"Don't insult me," Aria sneered. "In that case, they would have been dead before they left my station, and we wouldn't be speaking about it."

Aria snapped her fingers again and a haggard looking batarian hastened to her side, presenting her with a datapad. Aria scrolled through it slowly, murmuring, "Whoever they are, they have contacts in the Blood Pack here..."

"I thought you controlled the Blood Pack here," Liara said pettily.

"I do," Aria assured. "Which is why I don't want them making deals with gangs I don't know. Gnassus was very helpful."

"And now?" Shepard asked suspiciously.

"He's no longer a headache for either of us," Aria assured.

"And if they find out their contact just happened to become a corpse after they met with him?" Garrus asked. "That tends to tip people off."

"Who said he was dead?" Aria tisked, stretching out and shaking her head. "It's not always a matter of killing the idiot, just reminding him who holds the power."

Kasumi shuddered, tucking her knees closer. She had last seen Gnassus being led out of Aria's holding area, his mouth dripping with blood and missing most of its teeth. That was a kindness compared to the state of his crest. The points had been filed down or broken off, the front plate chipped and scratched beyond recognition, just short of being torn off to end his suffering. His armor was off, and his back and shoulders had been caked with blood and shredded flesh. He looked shrunken, stripped of an adult krogan's features. No, Kasumi agreed with Aria, he wasn't a threat to them anymore, if he had lived after Aria returned him to his gang.

"It appears that he was trading information about you for credits," Aria feigned interest as she tapped the pad, watching her audience instead of the screen. "Pity, they could have asked me directly. Saved us all time."

"That's it?" Shepard asked doubtfully, twitching her head when Kasumi started to speak.

"Of course not," Aria's mouth twitched back at Shepard's attempt to catch her, then she sighed heavily, tossing Shepard the datapad carelessly and running her fingers over her omnitool. "It appears your new friends have business on Nasurn. You should find all you need there, but I've transferred the original interrogation."

"And the program," Kasumi reminded when Aria stopped talking.

Aria regarded Kasumi with open disdain for speaking, but Shepard was too absorbed in the datapad to step in this time, and Liara had gone to look over Garrus's shoulder with them, leaving Kasumi to brave Aria's temper alone. Kasumi wasn't frightened, Aria still owed her for bringing this to her attention promptly. But she supressed a shiver as the asari's look bored into her, unwavering and coldly dissecting her body language.

"Yes, and the program," Aria freed Kasumi from her gaze, raising her voice to call her audience back, her mouth quirking smugly at Kasumi when her summons worked.

"They _are_ hitting a salarian facility," Liara mumbled wearily as she rejoined Kasumi. "I doubt it is to exchange pleasantries."

The stern furrows around Aria's smirk deepened, and she slowly turned, looking at Liara directly for the first time since the party had sat down. Now, Kasumi toyed with the idea of being nervous, sitting behind Liara's stubborn look and caught in Aria's charged silence. Shepard grabbed Vega's hand as the marine slowly went for his sidearm, and Garrus stiffening in his seat when Aria's bodyguards reached for their own guns.

"Yes, well," Aria said flatly. "Mercenaries like Gnassus aren't known for their subtlety."

"They're efficiency, however..." Liara said coldly, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning across Aria to address Shepard.

"What would they want with a computer glitch!?" Vega blurted, his brash attitude beneficial for once and drawing Aria's attention away from Liara as Aria began to pulse. Vega cleared his throat, continuing, "Tech's not really my thing, but it's a pain suiting up for something that doesn't actually work."

Aria flicked her eyes in Vega's direction and then back to Liara, still radiating annoyance. Liara leaned back slowly, bowing her head deferentially toward's the older asari. Kasumi could see Liara's hands ball into fists, but Liara tucked them into her lap, studying Aria's boots with her mouth firmly closed.

"You'll have to ask them," Aria said, still studying Liara's posture as she talked. "I control this station, burglaries in other systems don't concern me."

"This time," Shepard corrected.

Aria sighed, agreeing, "This time," as she stood up, pacing away from the group and finally signalling for her guards to lower their guns from where they were still pointing at Vega's head. Shepard slowly took her hand off of Vega's arm, letting Vega drop a trembling hand to his side after he let go of his pistol. Liara risked looking up when she heard Garrus click on the safety of his gun, and Kasumi straightened her legs, getting ready to make a break for it if Aria lost her patience at someone.

"Perhaps," Aria said levelly to Shepard, ignoring the others again. "If efficiency is the concern, you should get to work."

"Sounds like it," Shepard agreed, standing up and motioning for her crew to go before her, Garrus staying beside her until Shepard elbowed him to follow Liara, leaving Kasumi to take up the rear.

"And Shepard," Aria grabbed Shepard's arm as the Commander turned to go, squeezing until the plate of Shepard's armor crackled under her palm. "Next time, let's speak in private."

Shepard regarded Aria's hand calmly, following Aria's arm up standing nose to nose with the Queen of Omega.

"I'll think about it," Shepard promised, taking her arm out of Aria's grip, and flashing a smile. "Always interesting doing business with you, Aria."

Aria smiled coldly, straightening Shepard's shoulder plate as she brushed by and took back her throne, murmuring, "And you, Shepard."

Shepard hummed something under the music, gently resting her hand on Kasumi's shoulder as they made their way out of the club, quickly taking it away when Kasumi drifted away. She didn't need comfort for dealing with Aria, she needed to get out from under Aria's glare and somewhere quiet.  
"Sorry, Doc," Vega was grumbling at Liara by the shuttle station.

"It wasn't you," Liara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing softly. "Entirely. She would have found a reason. At least she gave us what she had."

"Did she?" Garrus asked Kasumi, eyeing the crowd around them suspiciously.

"That's all she got from an interrogation," Kasumi confirmed. "Gnassus...didn't talk much longer."

Garrus muttered unhappily, looking to Shepard for orders. Liara was trying to sift through the interrogation Aria had given them, her eyebrows knit together as she tried to hear anything useful over the crowds around them and Gnassus' roars of agony. Shepard looked over her shoulder, banishing Liara's screen when Liara gasped as Aria's thug used Gnassus' face as a battering ram against a wall.

"So," Vega asked into the tension, jumping back when Kasumi shrugged off his hand for brushing her shoulder. "What about you, Klepto?"

"Aria won't find me," Kasumi laughed, thinking off all the dark corners of Omega even Aria couldn't snake into.

"Sure," Shepard said confidently. "But who better to take on a burglary, than a burglar...thief, sorry."

Kasumi felt a rush of relief as Shepard grinned at her. She had been Omega for several months, she reasoned, and dealing with petty criminals might make her complacent. This was like a job. Not her preferred type of score, nothing pretty or valuable to cherish later, but it couldn't hurt to keep herself honed.

"Didn't Kaidan steal my room?" Kasumi reminded.

"Ah, he'll move," Shepard assured, jacking her thumb at the Normandy in the docking bay. "What'ya say?"

Kasumi was already trying not to giggle at the idea of Kaidan and Shepard jumping on an excuse to relocate him, and sorting through what she could afford to take on this trip. Garrus cheered triumphantly when Kasumi nodded, poking at Vega and judging how much the marine could carry in one trip.

"I just need to get a few things," Kasumi decided, tugging on Vega's wrist to get him to follow her.

"And here I was, thinking we should leave _him_ on the ship next time," Garrus chuckled as Vega struggled to keep up with Kasumi as she led them to her treasure trove.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ok, we've got this down," Carolina lectured from her place at the shuttle door, checking her gun. "Maine, York, Wyoming, you're with me. North, South, Connie and Wash, you take care of the nerds. North, you take lead."

North nodded, having already sorted the pecking order and squad layout with Carolina that morning. Carolina needed York and Delta to sift through the computers, North didn't want Maine to deal with run of the mill employees, and Carolina didn't want South without North to keep her in line, same old same old.

"What are we gonna do?" Theta asked, taking shelter behind North's ear and against the wall as the other agents milled around the shuttle.

"Just a little crowd control," North assured, feeling the AI starting to jump from scenario to scenario in his head, most of them involving gunfire. "You know salarians, right?"

"They're in my database, Wyoming says they're lizards, but he's wrong," Theta said proudly before faltering uncertainly for his correction.

"Wyoming doesn't have your brain," North laughed, glad to see Theta starting to risk a criticism or two, his glow strengthening when North praised him. "We're just making sure no one goes where they shouldn't."

"Want me to wall them in?" Theta asked.

"Ah...we'll see, buddy," North laughed, tempted to leave the salarians in one of Theta's domes, if that wouldn't cause a stir that they didn't want.

"You should stay out of sight," South contradicted as she took a seat beside North, peering at the small AI. "We can do this without you."

"...K..." North felt a rush of adrenaline as Theta tried to read South's intentions.

"Yeah, don't want this to be an exchange," Wash reported to North, also leaning to inspect Theta and asking conversationally, "So...why are you pink and blue?"

Shoving Wash back, North felt Theta searching his and North's minds for an answer. Sharing his head with a second consciousness had taken some getting used to, and North and York had spent their first several days after implantation spitting out gibberish while they learned to sort their thoughts from the new whispers of the AI. North had learned to sleep with Theta, for the most part, but York was still in the habit of storing Delta for the night before the equations Delta ran endlessly drove him up the wall.

"Am I pink and blue for a reason?" Theta asked uncertainly, pulling up an image of Delta in their head and analyzing the image. "Delta isn't..."

"Well, Delta isn't you," North reminded.

"No..." Theta agreed slowly, still comparing his image to Delta's nervously and searching his databases for more comparisons, getting more nervous when he didn't find any.

"Imagine how confusing it'd be, for these guys," North preemptively assured when Theta's discomfort grew. "If they had to guess which of you was which or ask York and me all the time?"

North looked back to talk to Theta directly, surprised to find the AI looking at Delta on York's shoulder, instead of looking at North for answers. For the most part, Delta ignored the younger AI. The doctors who had implanted Theta and Delta suggested limiting direct contact between AIs as much as possible, before they had a repeat of the geth incident. Delta was the oldest AI, and had been what North was expecting: cold, impersonal, following orders to a fault and completing his assigned tasks with methodical precision.

Even after having Theta with him for a couple months, North was still trying to understand his AI's perception. York had been adamant that Delta was just s computer game with an attitude, but North had never been so certain, and York had stopped saying it recently. Surely, programs didn't get stage fright, or need to be soothed by North walking him at night. North wasn't sure Theta was built to have emotions, or whether he used North's own brain to trigger the responses he wanted, but he was something more than a mindless program.

"Hey," South snapped, shoving her brother's shoulder. "You're spacing out again. It's fucking weird."

Theta snapped off in surprise, pulling North out of their shared stream of thought. North sat up and checked the buckles on his armor to prove to his sister that he was just as sharp and attentive as always. South was still getting used to sharing him and having to wait for an AI of her own. North was smart enough not to tell her that he had gone to the Director and asked for an implant before her, in case the procedure went wrong or York had missed any crippling side effects.

"What's the little squirt doing now?" South asked, curiosity mixing with her bitterness.

"Checking my power reserves, they've been glitchy ever since he got installed," North whispered, his headache easing as Theta stopped panicking over South's casual interrogation.

"Sure," South rolled her eyes, pouting over checking her gun. "Fine, whatever."

North knocked shoulders with South, trying to get his sister to cheer up before she turned the mission into a cathartic workout. Carolina studied the two of them, looking unconvinced when North waved her down, standing up and taking stock of his team. Connie was giving Wash a hard time, yanking his guns straight on his back, ignoring his struggles of mortification while York jeered at them to "get a room" until he saw North trying to rein them in. South hissed at the two of them until they stopped tussling, turning to look up at North for instructions.

"Ok, everyone, this is straight forward," North said, grabbing onto the bar above him as the shuttle lurched into a landing. "Whoa, warning!"

"Sure, North, I'll ask the wind for updates," Four Seven Niner agreed, yanking the shuttle straight. "Wouldn't want to inconvenience you or anything."

"Great, thanks," North threw Four Seven Niner a grin over his shoulder, chuckling as the pilot grumbled over the controls, keeping the Pelican steady after his criticism. "Anyway, straight forward distraction and crowd control. Let me do the talking, keep your guns down, don't cause a stampede, and keep them away from anything that looks like an alarm."

"Which looks like...?" Connie asked, adding, "Yeah, yeah, I get it," when North shook his head at her. They didn't need Connie getting clever right now.

"Why do you get to do the talking?" Wash asked.

"'Cause you suck at it," North said, pulling on his helmet and taking his rifle off his back. "South, watch the right, Wash, the rear, Connie, left, and I'll take the front."

His squad finally nodded obediently, staying with him as he joined Carolina at the door, checking the strap of his helmet again. North felt Theta run a diagnostic sweep on his armor, but North had stopped being nervous about the job by his mid-twenties. He had faced gunfire in street clothes, made deals with no bullets in his gun, and sweet talked his way past security more times than he could count. He could control himself and the hostages, North was sure. It was the other agents that kept North on his toes.

"Make it fast," North requested. "Salarians have hair trigger nerves, this could get ugly."

"Talk to York, I'm just a body guard this time around," Carolina said, but nodded once.

Four Seven Niner dropped the shuttle with a solid thunk in an abandoned industrial lot, and North and Carolina were off and running before the doors were completely open, leading their squads in separate directions, North and his group headed for the front door and Carolina towards a maintenance entrance that hadn't been on a public blueprint. North slowed his squad down, whispering, "York?"

"Delta?" York passed the question along, answering. "Give it a sec, Delta hit a firewall."

North motioned his squad down, peering around the corner of the alley they were squatting in, praying salarians didn't have smoke breaks. Private security would be Maine, Carolina, and Wyoming's job, and North hoped to keep them from being summoned for as long as possible, which gave Delta the job of looping the camera feed so North and his squad were invisible when they got to the building.

"Got it," York reported. "Haul it, before someone sees you."

North was already moving, waving Connie and Wash to hunker on the other side of the door, out of view of the doors overlooking the drive. South crouched by him, fidgeting as the salarian at the front desk sorted through papers.

"Wait...wait..." North mumbled, holding South back. They needed time to get to the salarian before he pressed an alarm, which meant waiting until his hands weren't resting just above it.

"North?" Carolina demanded.

"Yeah, we've got a workaholic," North grumbled, kneeing South when the salarian turned towards a printer spitting out paper.

South made a break for it, reaching the desk and pulling a gun just as the salarian turned around. Throwing up his hands, the salarian got a chance to look confused before South punched him in the face, then slammed his head into the desk, letting the body slide to the floor before she hauled it out from behind the desk, beckoning the others to join her.

"Get to it," North said, trotting to join South and help her tie the salarian's ankles and arms, reprimanding, "You were just supposed to keep him still."

"Easier now, right?" South said, knotting the ties tightly and rolling the salarian out of sight under a desk after she checked the underside.

"Connie?" North saved a lecture on respecting his authority later.

"Nothing new, looks as if Gnassus isn't completely stupid," Connie ransacked the computer. "There's a security checkpoint down the hallway on the right, then we hit the labs. Carolina?"

"What?" Carolina always braced herself for damage control.

"The computers and servers are on the fifth floor," Connie's fingers flew over the keyboard. "You can miss two security points if you just take the back stairwell up."

"Eh, we'll have to hit them on the way down anyway," Carolina decided, muttering commands to Maine and Wyoming.

"Good luck," Wash encouraged before the radio went off.

North checked the ties on the salarian, risking a look at the salarian's vitals to make sure he was still alive before he joined his squad. Connie was still mumbling to herself about the security station, making Wash jumpy and South fidget again.

"How many?" North asked to regroup them.

"Three," Connie muttered.

"Right," North nodded, pointing Connie ahead. "Drop a hologram into the center, we'll get the drop on them."

Connie nodded, putting her helmet back on and jogging ahead of them, peering around the corner and taking a deep breath, checking the security guards. North cursed under his breath at the close space, tapping Connie on the shoulder to stop her before she spooked them.

"Change in plans, Theta?" North asked softly. "I need a field, but don't let them see you."

"K," Theta appeared promptly.

"See those guys?" North pointed, nodding encouragingly when Theta nodded. "I need them to stay there."

"Seal off the room?" Theta asked in confusion.

"Nope, no, just those three guys," North corrected. "Make them a little...personal bubble."

Theta considered the target, looking at North for permission before North felt Theta draw power from his suit. The guards sprang up in confusion as the dome appeared around them, leaving them with each other and their seats, the desk inches from their fingers.

"Oooh, clever," North admitted as their leader grabbed the muzzle of his subordinate's gun, stopping him from firing. "Ok, Theta, just like in practice. Shrink it."

Theta flared alongside North's excitement as he yanked the barrier in, slamming the salarians together and leaving them in a pile of limbs and chairs before he dropped the field. North congratulated him silently as he ran for the pile, stepping on the back of one resilient salarian who was still crawling for the alarm.

"Sorry," North lied before he knocked the salarian between his horns with the butt of his rifle.

"You did _not_ know that was going to work," Wash accused as he helped truss up the security guards and throw them in a pile.

"Prove it," North challenged, shushing Theta when the AI contemplated admitting to Wash that, no, they hadn't.

Now was the easy part, if people would follow his lead. Warning Theta to stay out of sigh, just in case, North led the team down a hall, peering into the window of the first door he came upon. Salarians were hunched over test tubes and beakers, mechanically working, oblivious to the impending chaos. Ducking under the window, North pointed Wash to guard the corner in case the front desk had backup, and South and Connecticut to check the doors on the other side of the hallway.

South shook her head, breathing, "Mess hall" and reporting back, taking the other side of the door and waiting for North's cue. Connecticut skittered back, whispering, "Another lab, I'd say...twenty?"

"Chemicals?" North asked.

"Machinery," Connie said. "Welding stuff, but nothing serious unless we stick our face in it."

"Yeah, don't do that," Wash advised, leaning closer to hear the hushed tones. "What's next?"

"You, stay put," North waved Wash back. "Connie watch the door. South, let's go."

"Ladies first," South motioned for the door.

Prioritizing control over winning a sibling spat, North pointed Connie in place, then shouldered open the door, holding his gun up to get the salarians' attention as he shouted, "Hands up!"

Startled by the sudden command, the scientists came out of their research hazes at different speeds throwing up their hands, some looking to their colleagues while others looked for an exit, their initial squeaks and shouts softening until North was facing a silent room of giant eyes filled with panic and confusion.

"Alright, this is pretty simple!" North called over the room and the salarians' terrified mumbles. "I don't want to shoot you, you don't want to get shot! Keep your hands in the air, don't try to press anything, and we should both get what we want. You go home to your tadpoles and I don't have clean my armor. Any questions?"

"You missed this," South accused out of the corner of her mouth as the salarians obeyed, stretching their arms above their heads and grouping together nervously.

"Eh, nice to have someone pay attention," North admitted, jerking his gun up when a salarian's arms threatened to drop. "Hey, you're the brainy species, but don't get ideas. Connecticut!"

Connecticut reported promptly, helping to herd the shaking scientists into the corner of the room and frisk them for weapons. The salarians cooperated quietly, almost docile as South and Connecticut pushed and prodded them. North pulled Connecticut back as she shoved a squirming scientist against the wall, triggering the first cry of pain and struggle when Connecticut twisted the salarian's slender wrists until the bones ground together. The scientist trembled from head to toe while North finished searching him for weapons, digging through the lab coat and pushing the salarian to stand with his comrades when he came up clean.

"Ok," North kept his voice cheery when Connecticut and South had finished. "That wasn't so bad, huh? Two good lookin' ladies patting you down, we should charge for the service."

"What..." one of the scientists shuffled forward, his voice peaking even higher than normal in his fear. "What do you want? We don't keep credits on site."

"We'll figure something out," North promised lightly. "For now, you get to stay with Connecticut and Washington here. Have a seat, take it easy."

The salarian's looked to each other for guidance, the salarian who had dared to speak sinking to the floor, watching the muzzle of Connecticut's gun. Other salarians joined him, huddling together and keeping their hands raised under Connie's watchful eye. Their leader looked to North for approval, nodding shakily when North gave him a sarcastic "ok" sign.

Subduing the second lab was even easier than the first, the few salarians working there obeying quietly as soon as South said they had guns keeping their colleagues company next door. North brought up the rear, letting Connie pat them down before he pointed the new salarians to the floor beside the other captives. As the new trembling captives settled in next to their hunched friends, North breathed a silent sigh of relief that no one had had to pull the trigger to make a point.

"How's it going?" North asked Carolina, pointing Wash to guard duty in the hall. "We're all set here."

"It's taking a little longer than we thought," Carolina radiated annoyance through the speaker. "But-"

"Agent North?" Delta interrupted, raising North's nerves when Carolina, York, and South snapped, "What?"

"I have detected that a silent alarm has just been triggered," Delta informed.

"What do you mean, just?" South snapped.

"Within the last 3.24 seconds," Delta said, oblivious to the agent's confusion. "Additional security is expected in ten minutes."

North swore to himself, reaching for South as she pulled her pistol, pointing it at the chatty salarian, followed by Connie.

"South," North cautioned.

"We tried the nice way," South snapped, jerking the gun at the talkative salarian. "Get up."

The salarian obeyed, his knees knocking together as he rose, forcing his hands even higher when South pointed her gun between her eyes.

"Where is it?" South demanded.

"I don't know what you're looking for," the salarian reminded, reaching towards the ceiling until his elbows were straight.

"Don't fuck with me," South tapped the muzzle of her gun on the salarian's forehead.

"South," North repeated firmly.

"You searched us," the salarian warbled. "You searched us, we couldn't...we couldn't have..."

"Anyone else in here?" South asked, tightening her grip on the gun.

"Security," the salarian keened. "Maintenance, there might be maintenance staff."

"Might be?" Connie asked, sweeping her gun over the crowd to the sound of frantic murmurs.

"I don't know," the salarian pleaded feverishly. "I don't-"

North turned away from the spray, South's bullet tearing the salarian's head apart and painting his colleagues in brain matter. The salarian's bunched together more closely, ducking behind their colleagues and turning their backs on the ones at the front.

"Any of you frogs actually know something?" South asked, dangling the gun from her finger over the salarian's heads.

"Delta, where'd the alarm get triggered?" North asked before he was up to his ankles in carnage. "Room, checkpoint, what trigger got pressed, can you track that?"

"North, we're a little busy," York growled.

"One moment," Delta said when York had finished, silent for the promised moment before reporting over York's disapproving mumble, "Excuse me, Agent North, but the security alert was not triggered from this location."

"'Was not...?'" Connie snapped, looking down at the blood pool crawling towards his boot. "What does that even mean, did someone trip an alarm or not?"

"Get a dictionary!" York instructed.

"I have my own problems," North informed, looking around at the trembling salarians, South with her gun at the ready, and Connie looking to him for answers. "Delta?"

"A security alert has been issued for the fifth floor," Delta explained.

"Great, you fucked up," South snarled.

"Excuse me, Agent South," Delta continued haughtily. "But the fifth floor is comprised of a single computer lab and servers."

"And?" North heard himself snarl too.

"We are the only ones in this lab," Delta said simply. "It seems to have been triggered remotely. As I explained, not at this location."

"Remotely? What does that mean?" North snapped.

"North, I need him on this decryption, damn it!" York interrupted. "It's _your_ job to figure this out!"

North hissed into the headset, feeling what was left of his temper start to fray. Something about this was wrong, and he couldn't fix something he couldn't see. The salarians were still waiting, their fear palpable and making North sick alongside the smell of blood.

"Stay put," North instructed South, grabbing the gun from her hand and shoving it into her holster. "Don't shoot anyone else."

North relayed the order to Connie with a silent glare, pulling out his own pistol for safe keeping as he walked to the hall to decide his next move. He couldn't afford to send his men on a wild goose chase for a mystery person that might not even be in the building. And harassing Delta only made the real mission take harder.

"Wash, we need-"

"Relinquish your firearm, quietly," the nasal voice of a salarian came from behind the muzzle of a gun. "Raising the alarm would be...problematic."

North knew the drill, even when he was on the wrong end of the request. The hulking brat bounced his gun encouragingly, and North complied, holding his gun up with his fingers straight and his thumb along the barrel, safely away from the trigger. The asari was almost gentle as she took the gun out of North's hand, re-purposing it to target him. Mordin Solus, James Vega, Liara T'soni...knowing their names did nothing for North.

"Never called security to the _right_ spot before," a strange woman next to the man mused, standing over Wash's body.  Wash's armor was intact, but the lights on his back and visor were blinking like drunk disco balls. Looking down, the woman frowned thoughtfully, "I didn't think about the wires in his armor...I hope it's well grounded."

"You fire, and every salarian in that room is dead," North gambled with nothing to lose.

"Never intended to fire," Mordin Solus assured. "Merely get your attention."

"We don't need guns to kill you," Liara promised, stepping closer to North. "Simply put; I don't need them to eradicate your mind."

North wished she hadn't said that so calmly, her expression never leaving disinterest, with Wash still sprawled underfoot. North felt Theta shudder, triggering a flood of ice in his stomach he would never admit to feeling personally.

Well, fuck, North raised his hands higher.


	6. Chapter 6

"Liara, how are we doing?" Shepard asked, kneeling down to check the corpse of a private security guard.

"We have four secure here, and we've put the scientists in a barrier," Liara reported. "The unit seems to be working."

"Remind me to help Octavia get a patent for that thing," Shepard muttered.

"Shepard," Liara continued, her disappointment hitting like a krogan charge and making Garrus stop pretending to check for survivors. "We lost one of the scientists."

"What?" Kaidan asked. "How?"

"They were already doing the interrogation when we got here," James spat. "Shot him while he was still trying to talk'em out of it."

"Likely dead instantly," Mordin said. "Nothing to be done."

Liara's words and Mordin's clinical diagnosis hit hard, for most of them. Even Jack stopped, setting her jaw and looking to Shepard for what to destroy. Shepard pressed her ear peice, as if hoping she had misheard, but Liara and Mordin's grim silence was confirmation enough.

"What did they want?" Tali asked shakily.

"It seems they were trying to trace the source of the alarm," Liara explained.

"How would they do that?" Shepard asked. "They shouldn't even have known it was triggered." 

"In a facility that large, security would be alerted to the room that triggered the alarm," Kasumi said. "Sort of...security triage, at least then they can guess where the threat is and concentrate their rescue efforts. If you're smart, you trigger one in another wing and deal with fewer guards. They must have hacked the system."

"EDI?"

"It is highly unlikely," EDI almost sounded offended. "The system is designed to counteract a human intruder's response time to make hacking exceedingly difficult. Even I nearly set off-"

"Did you?" Jack didn't need to sound so accusatory, Garrus thought, given EDI's combat capabilities.

"No," EDI said confidently. "Though it is irrelevant, given that our goal was to set off the alarm, not monitor them."

"Isn't the point of a silent alarm to be-"

"Thank you, Lieutenant Vega," Garrus interrupted quickly. "I think that is exactly our problem."

"Can you get the cameras back?" Shepard asked. "It would be nice to have eyes on them."

"I am attempting that as we speak," EDI said curtly. "They keep resetting themselves...I haven't encountered this type of sabotage before, I will adjust."

"We don't have time for this," Shepard grumbled. "If they know the alarm's been triggered-"

"We're wasting time," Kaidan finished bitterly, his brown eyes tinged by a cold blue.

Shepard nodded, still grimacing from Liara's news. Ordering the team downstairs to be on their guard, Shepard looked over her team. Garrus studied the scene around him, the unwelcome feeling of confusion putting him further on edge. The four guards, two human and two turian, should have had their weapons drawn as soon as the mercenaries had appeared in the elevator or stairwell beside it. Two of the guards lay on the floor, and only one of them had a hand anywhere near his holster. The other two guards were still in their seats, one bent over the bloodstained keyboard with what was left of his crest littering the desk. The other slumped in his seat with what was left of his head spilling onto his chest, fragments of his helmet stuck to the floor with tacky blood. Jack nudged the chair of the slumping guard carefully, examining the leaking chasm calmly.

"Stupid fucker didn't even look up," Jack sneered, pointing to the similar wound on the guard next to him.

"I always knew guards were morons," Grunt mused. "But even I didn't think humans'd be dumb enough to open the door for mercs like that."

"Much less let them into the room," Kaidan added, wrinkling his brow in confusion.

Garrus nodded in agreement, trying to imagine a way that even the fastest mercenary could get past the door before even one of the guards had managed to draw a weapon or raise the alarm. The mercenaries were good, even better than Garrus had wanted to give them credit for, but even they couldn't teleport into a room. He hoped.

"Only one way to find out what happened," Shepard reminded. "Kaidan, Jack, you lead with barriers. Barriers only, Jack."

"Grunt, Tali, stick with me, hold your fire until we see what's in there," Shepard warned over Jack's resentful pout. "Garrus, you stay back, in case anyone gets by."

"Even she can't outrun a bullet head on," Garrus promised, taking up his position by the elevator.

Shepard nodded, leading the others towards the locked door at the end of the corridor. Garrus settled in, looking for a better vantage point. Security here was decent, which should have been bad for the mercenaries, but was turning around and making Garrus' job difficult. He couldn't get above them, and there wasn't a side shot from a window, which left him behind the main fight, waiting to pick anyone off if they got lucky.

Kaidan and Jack were already glowing as they approached the door, Kaidan widening his barrier to include Tali as she went to the door, swearing at her omnitool as the door continued to blink a forbidding red. Jack snickered in the face of Tali's glare as EDI's "I believe I have opened it" preceded the switch to a rotating green lock.

Jack was already giddy with laughter as bullets rattled uselessly off of her shield, Shepard's orders flying out of her head as she began to spark. Kaidan was calmer next to her, keeping his barrier steady, shouting a warning when Jack threatened to throw her powers out. The gold agent glanced up from the console and at the desk beside him before turning back to the computer. A duo of white agents stood in front of him, guns at the ready.

"They've got one!" Kaidan shouted, nodding to the uniformed guard kneeling in front of one of the white agents, the blade of his weapon firmly against the guard's throat.

"Wait! Please don't," the human guard begged shrilly, her knees sliding against the tile as she shook.

"Damn it," Garrus' worst fears came true as he was blocked by a sea of allies, unable to get a clear shot.

"Let her go," Kaidan threatened, sparking angrily.

"We like her right here," the final agent in the room sniffed. "If you feel like going, however, we'll be happy to let her go with you."

"Stop," the other white agent growled as Jack's biotics pulsed, tightening his grip on the guard until she choked.

"Now now, Maine, no need for barbarism," his comrade chided. "I never will understand why you use that heavy thing. I'm sure they'll listen to reason."

"We have you cornered," Tali pointed out.

"But we have a hostage," the drawling white agent pointed out. "We know that causes problems for you, _Commander_. Cold data against a living, bleeding person...I like our odds."

"It's funny when the prey gets lippy," Jack sneered. "Our leverage is better."

The two white agents paused, the gold agent jerking his head up and stopping his feverish typing. The security guard whimpered, tipping her head back as Maine's blade pressed closer to his neck.

"What do you mean?" the gold agent snapped, adding, "Maine, cool it," when the hostile agent's blade slipped under the seal of the guard's helmet.

"Your goons downstairs aren't worth what they're paid," Grunt advised smugly. "We could let the salarians loose on them. They can come up with some cruel stuff, trust me."

"No ones settling anyone loose on anyone," Shepard warned, adding, "But he's right, we turned the tables on your team downstairs. You kill him, we still have four of yours to choose from."

"You probably should have brought the teal bitch along," Jack added for good measure.

Maine snarled, looking to the gold agent for a clue, twisting his hand on the hilt of his blade. The other white agent still looked at ease, standing crooked with his gun leveled lazily at Kaidan. The gold agent hissed after his omnitool flashed green, saying coldly, "Let her go."

"York, you can't be-"

"Shut up, Wyoming. Let her go. Now."

Garrus kept his sniper pointed warily as Maine slowly lowered his blade, shoving the guard away from him sharply. Wyoming's shoulders heaved with disapproval as the guard crawled towards Kaidan. Jack smirked, pushing her barrier forward to block the muzzles of the agent's guns, letting the guard crawl between her and Kaidan's fields.

"You're safe now," Tali assured, helping the panting guard to her feet.

"Let me go!" the guard whined, flinching away from Tali.

"Garrus," Shepard ordered, putting herself between the agents and the guard. "We have doctors downstairs, they'll take care of you."

The guard nodded, tripping for Garrus and the safety of the stairwell behind him. Garrus dropped his sniper as the guard fell, pulling her out of the hallway and righting her as she trembled, pushing her for the stairwell.

"There's no one in the between floors. Head straight for the lower labs," Garrus assured. "And...brief new security, would you?"

The security guard nodded frantically, her footsteps thundering in the stairwell as she fled, making Garrus winced as she tripped in her haste. Garrus reclaimed his sniper, looking at the standoff down the hall. York leaned on the desk in front of him, considering Jack and Kaidan, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. Wyoming had backed behind a desk, his gun at the ready. Only Maine had stayed where he was, swishing his blade testily.

"So...what now?" York asked, pushing away from the desk.

"You turn yourselves in," Shepard said bluntly.

"How'd you figure?" York asked. "You can't keep those barriers up forever."

"There's nowhere you can go!" Tali reminded.

"You turn yourselves in, cooperate, we'll keep their security from shooting you on sight," Shepard continued calmly. "Maybe some of you even have a chance to live after the trial."

"In prison?" Wyoming snorted. "Not our style."

"I'll respect you, after I kill you," Grunt decided.

"Yeah...thanks for the offer," York said, tilting his head at Jack. "But we have a better deal."

Garrus swore as the lights went dead, plunging the entire floor into darkness except for sparks that flew from the computers. Squinting through his scope as his eyes adjusted, Garrus barely had time to shout a warning before Maine's blade crashed down through Jack's barrier.

Jack screeched, springing sideways and throwing Kaidan off balance, sending a biotic blast against Maine as she landed. Maine had sprung away in the next second, swinging his blade in a wide arc that made Kaidan pull Jack to the floor before she was decapitated.

"Ah, that's why," Wyoming said, ducking behind his desk. "Good show."

"I'll rip you apart, you son of a bitch!" Jack shouted, as Kaidan threw out another series of blasts to keep Maine back.

Kaidan shouted, Maine faltering and snarling, crumpling at the waist before a spasm of pain forced him straight. Kaidan swore as Maine wrenched himself sideways, Shepard's bullet missing and giving Maine a chance to recover from the attack. Tali's defense drone offered a small aura of light, hitting its mark when York was knocked back by a shock straight to his chest. Kaidan ignored Jack's struggles, dragging her back across the floor while Tali, Grunt and Shepard unleashed a hale of gunfire above their heads.

"D...damn, everyone alright?" York yelled to his men with a hand pressed to his chest, mumbling, "I guess so" as he removed his hand to show a scorched breastplate.

"EDI?" Shepard shouted. "I need you to see what they took!"

"It would be easier to check the system records after-"

"There won't be a system after!" Tali admitted.

"Oh. I see," EDI said flatly. "Of course."

Garrus snarled, tucking away his sniper and switching to his assault rifle, abandoning his useless post as a shotgun blast sent Kaidan and Jack scrambling for cover and Shepard and Grunt for opposite sides of the door. Dragging Kaidan back by the scruff of his neck, Garrus shot over Tali's shoulder.

"Recharge, or draw your weapon," Garrus reminded Kaidan at his feet.

"Yes, _thank you_ , Garrus," Kaidan panted, pulling his pistol from his holster just as a thunderous explosion rang from the lab.

York and Shepard swore in unison over Wyoming's bellow of "Maine, we're still in here!!", part of a desk hitting Tali and pinning her to the floor. Grunt roared indignantly, firing wildly into the plume of smoke coming out of the lab. Ducking behind the desk, Garrus tipped it up and away, asking, "You ok?"

"I think so," Tali gasped, pushing against the desk and wiggling out from under it. "I...I think there's a rupture on my leg, but I can seal it off."

"Fall back until-" Garrus gently brushed rubble off of Tali, frantically inspecting her for more damage.

"Fall back?" Tali laughed nervously, groping for her shotgun. "I can't do that, now it's personal."

Tali's forced mirth cut off in a gasp of pain as another explosion shook the hall around them, the desk tumbling over the space she had been lying in. Garrus grunted as a fragment of chair slammed into his back, clattering to the floor and leaving his left shoulder numb.

"Maine! **_Maine!!!_** " York roared, his armor glinting through the smoke. "The point is to live through this!!"

"Get back," Maine's forbidding snarl vibrated alongside a third explosion.

"Oh fuck this!" Jack shouted.

"Stop!" Shepard shouted as Jack demolished what was left of the doorway and first row of computers. "That is not helping!"

Garrus uncurled from blocking Tali from the shower of debris, sitting up and coughing dust out of his lungs. The agents had gone silent, the haze clearing alongside the silence. Grunt scoffed, spitting with rage and charging into the smoke.

"Grunt!" Shepard shouted, ducking into the smoke after him.

"Don't bring a butter knife to a krogan fight!" Grunt bellowed, the smoke swirling around his charge.

"Damn it," Garrus helped Tali stand, holding her shoulders until she had steadied herself from her suit isolating the wound.

The smoke had all but cleared, dust from the explosions still creating a fog that made Garrus squint in disbelief at the room. Grunt was sent spinning by a clout from Maine's blade, Shepard's bullet hardly slowing the agent down when it punched into his thigh. Behind Maine was a gaping hole, wires and insolation still clinging to the collapsed tiles. York and Wyoming were nowhere to be seen. Damn it, Garrus realized. They were _actually_ good.

"Yo, Commander?" James voice screeched into Garrus' ear. "We have a problem."

"She's a little busy," Kaidan winced as he stood, wiping blood from the nicks rubble had caused on his neck.

"So are we," Kasumi said. "They brought two more agents."

"You are fucking kidding me," Jack groaned, cracking her neck. "Damn it, Grunt, move your ass and give me a shot!"

"Their leader is here," Liara gasped. "One of them threw up a barrier as soon as she arrived, and there's another red agent here...somewhere."

"Holographic decoy," Mordin added. "Should have realized, excellent diversion technique."

"Stop complimenting them!" James yowled.

"Is there any good news?" Garrus asked, sighing in relief as a shot from Tali kept Maine from landing on Shepard as he dodged.

"The salarian bubble is still up," Kasumi said cheerfully. "So they're safe."

That was as much luck as they were going to get, Garrus decided, unfolding his sniper and propping it against the desk. Maine was fast, amazingly agile in the armor he wore, which kept him ahead of the gunfire, and he combined sweeping his blade with gunshots that kept his enemy moving until one of them was too exhausted to fight.

"You have to land too, though," Garrus muttered savagely, peering down the scope and waiting for his chance.

Tali noticed Garrus' change in tactics, getting behind him and sending a combat drone to restrict Maine's options. Kaidan raised a hand to cuff Garrus on the back, thinking better of it and dragging Jack out of the fray by the strap on her back.

"I'll cut that off," Jack threatened, twisting away from Kaidan's grip.

"They need backup downstairs," Kaidan said, pushing Jack for the stairwell. "We've got this covered."

"Then you go!" Jack shouted.

"Someone needs to trip 'the teal bitch' up," Kaidan pointed out. "You're better at that."

Jack scoffed, tugging the strap straight, running for the stairwell, swinging herself over the railing and dropping the remaining stories, catching herself with a biotic thrust. Causing a chaotic diversion of her own was one of the few things Garrus would implicitly trust Jack to do.

"Garrus?" Kaidan asked at Garrus' shoulder. 

"Can you do another Reave attack?" Garrus asked, glancing at Kaidan and noting the sweat starting to dampen Kaidan's temples.

"I can manage," Kaidan promised.

Garrus went back to waiting, his finger resting carefully on the trigger as Maine blurred in combat with Shepard and Grunt. Grunt would make Garrus' job difficult, charging straight into combat, and potentially Garrus' bullet.

"Don't-"

"I got it," Kaidan interrupted, his hands shaking but his assurance steady.

Maine thrust his blade out and fired at the same time, making Shepard vault over a desk for cover. Grunt barreled for Maine, stumbling to a halt to avoid the shot Tali sent at his feet. Maine snarled and flinched, using his blade as a crutch as Kaidan's attack hit full force.

"Gotcha," Garrus hissed, pulling the trigger.

Maine's throat burst, blood spraying his helmet and running down his chest, staining his armor red. Maine slapped a hand under his chin, blood continuing to bubble over his fingers as he collapsed, toppling into the hole he had created and hitting the floor with an audible thump.

"Damn," Kaidan wheezed, getting up with Garrus and heading for the wreckage.

Tali was already helping Shepard up, avoiding Grunt's angry protests that he could have finished the job without her. Kaidan limped more slowly, straightening up as he had a chance to recuperate. Lowering his gun and running to the hole, Garrus looked down, expecting to find Maine crumpled and drawing his last breath.

"That's..." Garrus trailed off, having long since learned not to limit the world to plausible possibilities.

The only sign of Maine was a splatter of blood where he had landed, leading into a sprawling blood trail. Garrus barely heard Shepard's warning shout as he slid down the pile of rubble, readying his gun to shoot the dying man in the head and end it. He was left staring at an empty hallway, the thin lines of blood leading into the stairwell.

"Shepard, two more just showed up!" Liara's frantic report broke Garrus from his disbelief. "What are you doing up there?"

"Working on it," Shepard promised as she slid down to meet Garrus, followed by Grunt. "You've got another one incoming."

"So much for division of labor," James grumbled.

"Ugh, shut  _up_ ," Tali begged.

Garrus caught Tali as she slid, pushing aside his worry at the red blood staining the left leg of her suit. Worrying only made it worse, and they had to get out of here before anything more could be done. Kaidan landed with a stumble, mumbling, "Incredible."

Garrus nodded in reluctant agreement as Shepard led them down the stairwell, asking EDI for an update as they ran towards the sound of gunfire.

"Security should have arrived," EDI reported. "I am still working on a list of what they have taken."

"A whole list?" Tali sighed hopelessly.

"We just need to make them talk," Grunt comforted caustically. "You start with their hands..."

"Er....we should get to Jack _before_ private security does," Kaidan reminded.

The lower labs were even more chaotic than the computer lab had been. The dark purple agent flew backwards as Garrus rounded the corner, thrown aside by Liara's biotics, then thrown against the back wall by an accompanying blast from Jack. Kasumi blinked out of sight as the teal agent shot by, throwing a stunned James into a pile of desks. James faced the agent's pistol as she pulled the trigger, the gun sparking as Kasumi fried its heat sink.

"Stupid kid," Grunt scoffed, smashing into the teal agent head on when she turned to deal with Kasumi.

The teal agent skidded across the floor, up and blurring out of sight before Grunt could pin her in place and pulverize her, Kasumi blinking out of sight at the same instant. Knocking the light purple agent into the lab with a concussive shot, Garrus waded through the wreckage of glass and table fragments, grabbing James as he dug himself out.

"Ok....I owe you one," James admitted, accepting Garrus' hand up and coughing to get his breath back.

"Let's settle up later, we're not done yet," Shepard suggested, looking up as an explosion sent smoke billowing from the lab. "Not again!"

"If it ain't broke," Kaidan grumbled, pointing in the direction of the main entrance. "Private security."

"Ten minutes my left nut," James spat, shouting indignantly as another explosion sounded.

A platoon of private security, all turians from the look of it, ran to take shelter behind Shepard and her crew, taking up a defensive position as their leader surveyed the battlefield. Maybe now they could make a dent.

"Shepard!" Mordin greeted as the red agent burst into flames in front of him, scorching her armor. "They're trying to escape through lab wall. Impressive explosives."

"We've noticed," Shepard agreed, looking over the influx of private security, fifteen by Garru's count. "At least-"

"North, what was that about crowd control?!" the grey agent shouted, patting off flames from Mordin's latest shot.

Shepard's assessment was interrupted by a wide dome closing over the organized security, an instant before a muffled gunshot. Tali screamed as the dome turned red, blood pouring out from the border as soon as the field dropped. Liara created another singularity field, Kaidan holding a weak barrier between her, Mordin, and the agents, as the two doctors rescued two survivors from the bloody pile.

"Holy shit," Jack said, disgust mixing with cold admiration. "I want one."

"Commander?" Cortez's voice only made Garrus' mood worse. "That damn Pelican is making a beeline for you."

"Can you shoot it down?" Shepard asked, leaning against the counter for shelter.

"Uh...not without hitting something with people in it," Cortez admitted. "I'll make landing a pain in their ass, though."

"Thanks," Shepard said, looking around and grimacing. "We have to get into that lab before they get out of it. Where are the salarians?"

"We left them in the other lab," James said, peering around the counter he was using as cover. "Where they are now..."

"James, Tali, make sure they're still contained, Kaidan, guard Mordin and Liara," Shepard ordered. "Garrus, Grunt, with me. Jack, clear a path. Kasumi?"

"Yes?" Kasumi asked lightly, appearing as a solid next to Shepard while a twin flickering out as the teal agent ran through it on her way towards her men.

"Just...keep it up," Shepard encouraged weakly. "Mordin, Liara...save as many as you can."

Kasumi nodded confidently, cloaking herself again as she led the way towards the explosions, ignoring Jacks huff of annoyance. Following at Shepard's flank, Garrus found himself searching for Maine, annoyance gnawing at him that Maine was not only still alive, but seemed to shrug Garrus' shot as easily as he had Shepard's.

"All this for some gadgets? Maybe I should get on the payroll," Jack considered bitterly.

Jack laughed as the teal agent tried to slam into her, throwing her back with a flick of her hand. Garrus was relieved to see he had at least done something as he caught sight of Maine, leaning on his blade to stay upright, snarling at Jack's dodge. The red agent crouched by him, clutching her armor to a bleeding arm, the grey agent leaning against the wall for support beside them. This close, it would be hard to miss, Garrus realized, swinging a piece of desk into Wyoming's face as he aimed for Shepard.

"Get up," York was still trying to rally despite the blood speckling his armor. "Get up, Wash, we need to move!!"

Garrus hesitated as York shouldered 'Wash' to their feet, pushing the grey agent to the far corner as Maine detonated another charge. A few more explosions and Garrus figured the wall would come down, or the entire building would.

"Why are they moving?" Kasumi asked. "They're cornering themselves..."

"I dunno," Garrus admitted, watching the teal agent closely as she slowed down, circling York and the red and grey agents he was dragging.

The dark purple agent crouched with them, shoving the lighter purple agent down and prodding at the wound on the red agents arm. Garrus' skin prickled as Maine and Wyoming skidded to join them.

"Get back!" Garrus warned as another dome formed over the agents this time.

Shepard turned in surprise as the exterior wall burst, flying inward and bouncing off the crackling dome. Shepard and Jack fell in a cascade of debris, Grunt keeping his feet until a slab of concrete as big as him cracked over his head. Garrus hit the ground, curling his arms over his head and neck with Kasumi pressed against his back while the roar of the Pelican's engines replaced the ringing numbness of the explosion.

"Not while I'm breathing," Garrus groaned as he saw boots climbing over the rubble.

Kasumi seconded him with a shot to York's arm, wiping blood out of her eyes and firing again, grazing York's back as he pushed Connie for the shuttle, hardly slowing down. Garrus forced himself to uncurl, his joints screaming in protest, his first shot missing Wyoming by a mile. The grey agent yelped, nearly dropping the dark purple agent he was shouldering, Garrus' next shot ringing off of Maine's blade. Garrus struggled to bring the teal agent into focus as she smashed the butt of her rifle into Kasumi's blind side, heading for Shepard.

"Carolina, leave it!" York shouted. "We don't have time for this!"

Carolina ignored him, kicking Garrus' gun away from him and leveling her gun at Shepard's head.

"If you touch her, I will kill you," Garrus promised.

Carolina scoffed, lurching back as Shepard's omnitool blade swiped at her, both women screaming in frustration as they missed their target. Grunt kicked rubble into Carolina's face, over York shouting, "Maine's got a slug in his neck!!!

Carolina disappeared in a cloud of dust just as Garrus fired, his bullet embedding itself in what was left of the wall. As Carolina leaped into the waited Pelican, Garrus saw the Kodiak try and block a take off, Cortez pulling the shuttle back as the more robust Pelican knocked it off course.

"Bastards!" Cortez accused, dropping into a landing that sent sparks flying, cursing the Pelican as its engines kicked and it faded from sight.

And with that, the mercenaries were gone, leaving a smoking residue of chaos in their wake. By the time more security had responded to EDI's call for reinforcements, Kasumi, Shepard and Jack were smearing medigel on bruises and cracked bones from being buried in wall.

Kaidan hunched in a quiet corner, rejecting medical attention until he accepted water from Mordin. Liara sat in the center of the commotion, keeping the two guards they had saved alive until an ambulance could get them to a real hospital. James and Cortez organized the shaken salarians, coaxing them out from behind their bubble of safety and turning them over to the police for questioning.

"Wait," Garrus called to an asari officer and turian from the security firm after summarizing the damage from the explosions, looking around and taking stock as best as possible through the bloodstained uniforms and bustling newcomers. "We sent a guard from upstairs down here, a human,...we lost her during the fight..."

"You must have miscounted," the turian muttered, looking over his records. "All guards employed at this facility have been accounted for, we'll be notifying their families immediately."

"No, this one was alive," Kaidan insisted, looking to Garrus. "She might have run out when the fight broke out."

"Look, I know how to count body bags," the turian said tensely. "Twenty guards at this location. Nine turians, six humans, and five salarians. The ones on this floor are already being questioned, the other sixteen certainly aren't leaving the fight."

"But-"

"If you sent her down here, she didn't make it," the turian snapped sharply, shoving his datapad into Garrus' hands. "Now just let me get back to my job."

The two officers walked away, leaving Garrus staring dumbly at the datapad with Kaidan. The roster detailed shifts, placement of guards, and how many guards on each floor. Most of them hadn't fallen more than a few feet from their assigned positions.

"There were only four chairs," Kaidan thought aloud, pointing to security on the fifth floor. "Four chairs, four guards, so..."

"Where'd they get the fifth one?" Garrus finished.

Garrus liked to think of himself as an intelligent turian. Not as studied as Liara, or a technical genius like Mordin, but he knew his fair share about combat upgrades, and was the most qualified strategist. He was already dismissing the idea as his own imagination grasping for an explanation when Kaidan mumbled, "You don't think..."

"I think...Tali," Garrus called. "Mordin, what do you know on armor camouflage?"

Tali and Mordin shared a look, Mordin's mouth moving slightly as he talked himself through his encyclopedic knowledge. Tali rubbed drying blood off her mask, saying slowly, "Most soldiers would use cloaking. It covers every situation."

"What if you weren't a tech specialist?" Garrus asked. "Not all of us have that capability and control. Is there something more...basic. Just altering the armors appearance, for instance?"

Tali jerked in surprise, Mordin humming thoughtfully. Garrus grew hopefully apprehensive as Mrodin nodded with renewed energy, smiling softly to himself before snapping back to seriousness as he looked at the destruction around him.

"Saw such a prototype tested," Mordin said, becoming excited the longer he talked. "Not as popular as cloaking, so progress slow, funding sporadic. Salarian's prefer less personal means of infiltration, but...Yes, yes, colleague tested a material that changed tint according to an electric current. Easier to maintain, requires less power...possible to navigate a crowded area without leaving space...harder for sensors to pick up...yes, could be done."

Mordin smirked proudly at solving the puzzle, knitting his brows at the groans of Tali, Kaidan, and Garrus. Carolina hadn't just outrun his bullet, Garrus realized bitterly, she had conned him into letting her pass.

"More good news," Kaidan growled, watching at Shepard waving off doctors and pointing to Kasumi's bleeding eye.

"I hate when they get creative," Garrus agreed, thinking of Maine tumbling through the chasm he had made, still in fighting shape with his throat ravaged. When the criminals got creative, Garrus had to get creative.

He could enjoy that part, at least.


	7. Chapter 7

"This isn't your fault," York said it yet again, like an audio recording with a damaged core. 

"I didn't say it was," Carolina said, ignoring the kick of guilt if York was going to try and play shrink. "This is still the right thing to do." 

"Yeah," South snorted skeptically. "You're just that selfless."

Carolina didn't like the sarcasm dripping from South's voice.  Carolina was a professional, and knew how to put of an operation before her personal interests. South was just chafing under a chain of command. They had gotten the best humans from every field, and egos came with that.

"What is taking so long?" Carolina asked to drown out anymore glib insubordination.

"It hasn't even been half an hour," York laughed grimly. "We have at least another hour to go, if you want to go do something worthwhile a couple times."

"A 'couple times?' In an hour?" Wyoming chortled.  "Oh, York. Quality, not quantity, my good man."

"Oh, Wyoming," York sighed sadly. "Some of us can go for both."

Carolina cocked an eyebrow at York's smug grin, not letting him draw her into banter to distract her. He was too good at it, and he might think he was charming, if she wasn't careful. North cleared his throat softly, a tolerant grimace playing on his lips behind the book he was reading. Carolina stifled a laugh as she saw that he was pointing to Theta on his shoulder. Someone was going to have to tell North that with an entire database about organic life at his disposal and weapons capabilities to rival some C-Sec points, Theta wasn't exactly a child.

"You're making me itch," Connie growled from her spot by South, glaring at Carolina through her bangs.

They were all there. They hadn't discussed it, they hadn't formed a committee, no one had mentioned Maine's condition or chances of survival, it had just happened, as if the medical bay was the new conference room. Even Wyoming was there, less somber than everyone else, but watching the door carefully. It was his turn next, Carolina realized. Wyoming was cocky, but had an impeccable sense of self preservation and a knack for recon.

For getting out of the missions alive, the mood at the base had been low ever since they had hit the salarian labs. At had taken three hours under Four Seven Niner's careful watch to scour Maine's blood from every crevice of the shuttle. Carolina spent the time replaying the final seconds of the mission. A split second faster, and Shepard would be dead. That was part of the job, and Shepard's carcass was no different from the many guards, other mercenaries, and opponents Carolina had killed. She at least could have rid the galaxy of Garrus Vakarian on the way by.

"There is a system, a process," the Director had lectured when Carolina had gone to see him with her proposition about Maine.

"Yeah, well, we're the ones that are building that system," Carolina had stayed firm in the center of a familiar glare over the rim of cold bifocals. "And in the process, Maine lost his damn vocal chords and a chunk of his jugular."

"And arrangements will be made for him," the Director had assured without a note of concern. "But we test your readiness for a reason."

"Maine is one of the best agents you have," Carolina had insisted, feeling her anger and guilt surge. She never thought she would have to defend Maine, of all people. "And I need him, up and ready, as soon as possible. He's as ready as I am."

It had hurt to say those words. Carolina always sought to be the best, and she'd never felt comfortable setting in among the rank and file. Maine, on the other hand, didn't fight for a rank, he fought because he had always fought, and he liked it. Not just liked, Carolina corrected. Carolina liked fighting, she liked getting the job done, she liked winning. Maine enjoyed the hunt, the chase, and the kill, and he was good at it. As much as it pained Carolina to admit, they needed that right now.

"They'll finish the implant, then run an ass ton of test to make sure they didn't get some wires crossed when they were poking at your spine," North sounded too calm, bordering on smug. "Touch your nose, turn and cough, say the alphabet backwards. Then they'll brief the AI."

"Why?" Wash asked skeptically.

"To ensure we can be removed and communicate without negative effects," Delta said. "The process is...uncomfortable."

Delta rippled, surprising Carolina with a rare statement of relative perception rather than straight data. Delta looked around the room as if to add something, then flashed out. York rubbed his neck, mumbling, "Well, someone's pissier than usual."

"How can you tell?" South spat, seething with annoyance when York tapped the side of his head.

"Maine doesn't need a translator, he's monosyllabic anyway," Wash insisted, leaning back against the wall and pretending to sleep. "Most of the time he just grunts and growls until you fuck off."

"Until  _you_ to fuck off," Connie teased flatly, flicking her bangs out of her eyes.

"Yeah, like you and Maine have girl talk, yowch!" Wash clutched a newly bruised shin. "Point is, you get the message without a heart to heart."

"If you two will put in a sock in it for once," North begged. "I will...fuck that, just shut up."

North leaned back like Wash, sleeping before his head had hit the wall. While Maine was bleeding out on the shuttle deck, North had passed out the second Wash had dropped him. After being wheeled out of the hangar, he had slept for two days, through South's screaming and three medical scans for him, two for York, and the news that Maine would live. Theta had been forcibly removed with his armor, spending those two days in storage, until North opened his eyes and asked who had been dumb enough to tamper with his AI against regulations. Doctor's orders kept him from training for a week, but he'd had Theta back within the hour.

"What did the head honchos have to say?" Connie asked, stretching out her legs and cutting off Carolina's path. "Anything, or do they like seeing us twist in the wind?"

"It must have done some good," South muttered. "Carolina wasn't supposed to get her night light for another two weeks, and Maine's already swooped in."

"He was up after Carolina," York pointed out.

"So do we all get a cut in line?" South asked.

"Or, like, six," Connie bitched under her breath.

"No complaints," Carolina admitted loudly, taking a seat and the opportunity to pinch York's shoulder. "They said we succeeded once they found the right program in the inventory you gave them."

"I thought I'd make a little more work for them," York said smugly, pausing before he admitted, "Delta picked up a few other programs while he was in the system. Something about contorting...distorting...fucking with expectations by introducing false variables."

"Maybe that will slow them down," Connie almost looked approving before slipping naturally back into skepticism. "How did they know we were there in the first place?"

"Gnassus sold us out," Carolina wouldn't have been surprised. Mercenaries weren't known for their long standing loyalties. "Or one of his cronies did. Who knows, maybe Aria had a hand in the deal all along and thought she'd double her profits by selling us out to Shepard."

"That's what we get for playing in Aria's backyard," Wash groused bitterly, slouching in his seat when Carolina grunted disapprovingly. "What did Delta find on the psycho Asian chick?"

"Nothing. Well...he found stuff about 'psycho Asian chicks' on the extranet, but he insisted that 'the footage was not tactically relevant,'" York grinned. 

"That's disgusting," South wreaked disapproval.

"Did he save the links?" Wash asked hopefully.

"No," York wisely slouched away from Carolina. "He said his data storage was 'not for personal use.'"

"Didn't she bludgeon you?" Carolina reminded a crestfallen Wash.

"Uh, yeah, she basically cattle prodded me in the head," Wash sulked. "Still...she's kind of cute."

"You're unbelievable," Connie smacked the back of Wash's head.

"Hey, I'm just looking at the bright side!" Wash shielded his skull from another attack. "She could be crazy and look like you!"

"Ah, lover's quarrels," Wyoming commented from his corner. "How tedious."

"Do we get a breather, now?" South asked, watching her brother sleep through Connie gagging and pulling her chair away from Wash. "The least they could do is outfit all of us before they send us up against Commander Shepard and her cult again."

"They least they could do is give us all energy shields," Wash said softly, studying North guiltily.

"Fat chance," Connie snorted. "You don't give all the guinea pigs the same treatment, that nullifies the experiment."

"I thought you wanted an AI," Wash said.

"You know what I mean, they're trying to diversify AIs, no way they're going to give us all the same model. Not that I'm holding my breath for that pat on the head any time soon," Connie admitted.

"Is someone insecure about their performance evaluation?" Wyoming smirked, chuckling at Connie's hiss.

"Besides, once we crack the secret to pumping out AIs, what then?" Connie elaborated defensively. "If you revolutionize red sand, it's still red sand, and the brass are even more eager to stop you for trying. So...do we expect to get military funding? Become spokesmodels? Sell weapons for the next Krogan War?"

"Give them a break," York mercifully interrupted Connie's sour suspicions. "AIs are usually part of a whole building or ship that take a freakin' quantum computer to even boot up. Unless we want to use network intelligence and get our asses kicked like the quarians. Self contained units in armor, adapting in the field...yeah, even I'm impressed, and I saw an AI go apeshit on Luna."

"I'm not saying it's not impressive," Connie bristled. "I'm just-"

 "Waiting for a pat on the head, or already looking for a new gig...which is it?" Carolina had other things to worry about than Connie's conspiracy theories and Wyoming's lazy attempt to bait her.

Carolina allowed herself a smirk when Connie fell into her typical resentful silence after being put in her place. People always needed hired guns, even when the Council insisted the galaxy was at peace. Carolina jutted out her chin when she caught Connie glaring at her, accusing Carolina for being above such concerns. Compared to the geth, these AIs were just flashy toys with a handful of tricks. Watching North wheeze and twitch in his sleep, Carolina saw a long road ahead.

As York's promised two hour procedure stretched into three hours, than four, the wait for Maine sank into silence, until even Connie and Wash got tired of bickering for amusement. Eventually North jerked awake, lurching up from his seat and excusing himself for the longest excuse of 'getting a drink' Carolina would pretend to believe.When the door finally swung open without warning,  Carolina feared the worst.

Instead, Maine stood before them with the same resting scowl, shedding fretting doctors and slamming the door before they could follow him. The only sign of change was an angry red scar the width of his neck in front, and the raised implant scar on the back when he looked at Wyoming as he approached.

"At least they didn't make you uglier," Wyoming pointing to the implant mark. "Then is that welt just for show?"

"Are they keeping you for observation?" North asked in surprise.

Maine growled wordlessly, the angry scar across his neck bulging  under a flare of orange light, drawing the agents' attention his left shoulder. Accustomed to Delta's abrupt appearances without York's permission, Carolina didn't expect a bolt of discomfort at the expected AI flashing into a reality, its outline strengthening as he wavered in mid-air.

"Whoa," Wash was the only one stupid enough to put their reaction into words.

"Hello," the shadow of a burning man sounded calm, amicable, the mechanical grate to his voice subtle before his words echoed back in a lower pitch. "I am the artificial intelligence program known as Sigma."

Maine rumbled, turning with the others to stare at their new member, the orange pits that served as Sigma's eyes looking to him respectfully.

"It has a face," Carolina heard Wash whisper.

"Gross," South sneered.

Sigma turned his head towards South, his burning orange aura following the motion and the shining slit of a mouth turning up at the corners before being obscured in the flicker of flame. Theta and Delta didn't have faces, projecting themselves as fully armored soldiers. Sigma was just a man, translucent except for his flames. His orange eyes moved from one agent to the next, his mouth smiling where Maine's wasn't, leaving a burning trail as he floated towards the agents.

"You were waiting," Sigma observed. "Agent Maine would like to thank you."

"Agent  _Maine_ would?" South asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Sigma insisted. "While it is unnecessary, he appreciates your concern. The doctors assure that all damage to his trachea and esophagus has been repaired. The damage to his larynx is more extensive, but his combat abilities should not be affected."

"Then what took so long?" York asked, looking between Maine and Sigma sharply.

Sigma paused, drifting back so he was behind Maine's shoulder, the way Theta and Delta waited for commands. Unlike Delta and Theta, Sigma nodded at Maine's silence, drifting again as he talked.

"I have never interacted with humans before," Sigma explained, considering his words. "If I hope to speak for Agent Maine, I needed time to understand how. What he might wish of me, and what he does not, and what I am capable of. Did you not go through the same process, Agent York?"

York jumped in confusion at Sigma's formal address mixed with a friendly tone followed by a scornful rattle from Maine. Sigma placed his hands behind his back, bowing his head apologetically when York shook his head, snapping, "Not for that long."

"Have I offended you?" Sigma asked mournfully, withdrawing into the fire around him. "I spent much of the time learning about you, to make conversation more natural, but human communication is...complex."

Maine growled at York, his eyes snapping angrily and then darting to Carolina for an explanation. Even his growls were softer and courser, the scar bulging with each exhale. Maine kept glancing at Sigma and then back at the people around him, jerking his face from the holographic flames when Sigma floated through his nose.

"Good to see you on your feet again," Carolina spoke to Maine, holding out her hand. "You've got dibs on the turian."

Maine coughed harshly, his mouth jerking into a grimace of affirmation as he took Carolina's hand and shook it firmly. Sigma snapped to attention, watched the interaction carefully, even floating downward to study their hands before returning to his post.

"Agent Carolina," Sigma faced her straight on, hovering in place. "Agent Maine seems to believe that I was intended for you? Is that correct?"

Carolina balked, and felt North and York share a look over her back. Sigma made it sound personal, his burning eyes never leaving Carolina's face, as if he was scanning her, absorbing her significance like the handshake. Maine gurgled, and Sigma dropped several inches in the air, lowering his gaze deferentially.

"I was up next," Carolina said quickly, Sigma's expressive mimicry surprising her. "But it was more important for Maine to be able to communicate. That's why you were paired with him."

Sigma considered the words, rising slowly until he was at Carolina's eye level again and adopting the same soft smile.

"Yes," Sigma nodded. "Thank you, Agent Carolina."

Carolina shrugged, still adjusting to Sigma's conversational demeanor in comparison to Delta's formal obedience and Theta's dependence on North. The other agents were similarly silent, switching between looking at Maine for a reaction and at Sigma as a medium. Sigma waited patiently until Maine growled at him and sat in a vacant chair, yanking at his shirt collar irritably. Sigma nodded again, offering slowly, "If I may...to ensure that I have understood Agent Maine..."

Sigma flew over Carolina's shoulder and into the cluster of agents, tilting his head comically far as he inspected them. Keeping his distance when the agents backed away to give him a path, Sigma paused every few seconds to look back at Maine for permission or confirmation.

"He's more sociable than you are, Maine," South said, swiping at Sigma and laughing when Sigma dropped in midair to avoid her hand.

"Let's hope his reflexes improve," Wyoming said critically.

Wash squirmed as Sigma approached him, backing away until Connie shoved him to keep him from stepping on her. Sigma stopped several feet away, looking at Wash from head to toe before he stuck his hand out.

"Uh....yo," Wash waved uncertainly and shoved his hands in his pockets before Sigma could get any closer.

Sigma copied the wave with a sharp flick of his outstretched hand, then clasped his hands behind his back again , his mouth turning down to look pensive, then up to resume a smile.

"'Yo,'" Sigma repeated carefully. "This is...human slang, interesting. Agent Maine would prefer I keep to traditional greetings. Hello, Agent Washington, I am pleased to meet you."

"Uh...you too?" Wash asked uncertainly.

"Thank you."

Sigma zoomed towards Wash, zipping around Wash's shoulders as Wash tried to follow, returning to Maine in an instant and standing at attention. York opened his mouth as if to say something, faltering when Sigma looked at him expectantly.

Carolina pushed down a twinge of jealousy. Sigma was adjusting quickly, more independently than Delta, who didn't ask questions beyond what needed to be done and rarely used colloquialisms, and more confidently than Theta, who only asked permission and mostly spoke on North's request. It was probably because Maine couldn't speak aloud, letting Sigma appear more self regulated, Carolina reminded herself. They hadn't even tested his potential yet, and there were plenty of AIs to come.

"Good to have you on the team, Sigma," Carolina couldn't bear the silence and Sigma's curious gaze any longer. If AIs could be idly curious, that is.

"As I am to be," Sigma nodded to Carolina, then went back to looking at York. "Will I be working with Delta and Theta?"

"Uh," York grunted in surprise, shaking his head sharply, blurting to Maine. "You were there for AI Fraternization 101."

"Didn't Agent Maine....explain the regulations?" Connie asked peevishly. "You don't work with the other AIs."

Sigma shrank back to Maine's neck meekly, murmuring, "Yes. The Director demands that contact between AIs be limited. Does that mean I am _never_ to meet them?"

Sigma asked the assembly as a whole, but stopped with his gaze resting on North. York quirked an eyebrow in confusion, glancing at North for help. North blinked, keeping his eyes shut a second too long over the request, exhaling slowly while Sigma descended another foot to stand on Maine's knee.

"I see," Sigma accepted the silence as an answer. "I was wrong to ask."

York and North winced in unison, North grimacing guiltily over Sigma's submissive stance at the verdict. York groaned in his throat when he saw North's face, groaning aloud to North's weakly argued, "It did help Theta..."

Maine snarled over York's reluctant, " _F_ _ine_ ", and Sigma launched from Maine's knee. There was a dim flash of purple, making Carolina hide a reluctant smile when she caught sight of Theta, peeping out from behind North's hip. North smiled down at Theta without having to search with the other agents, turning sideways to draw Theta out.

"Come on, Theta, this is Sigma," North encouraged. "He's the new kid, just like you were, come say hi."

"Do I have to?" Theta squeaked, sinking to North's knee. "He looks...different."

"We talked about this," North scolded gently. "That's a good thing, remember?"

Theta nodded, shrinking suddenly and making North look to Sigma in surprise as the new AI drifted down, stopping in front of North's knee. Sigma followed Theta as the other AI took shelter between North's knees, keeping Sigma on the opposite side of North's leg.

"Hello, Theta," Sigma said softly. 

"Hey," Theta ducked behind North's opposite leg when Sigma got close.

"Theta, that's rude," North scolded, stepping backwards while leaving one leg for Theta to hide behind. "He's one of us."

"I know," Theta buzzed, flashing out and reappearing on North's shoulder, safely out of range from Sigma's tentative chase. "What can he do?"

"Why don't you ask him?" North encouraged, watching Sigma return to float in front of him at a respectful distance.

"AIs aren't supposed to talk to each other," Theta reminded, adding hypocrisy to his list of tricks and making Connie snicker. "It's one of the rules."

"Ah, you know what they say about rules," North teased.

"North," Carolina cautioned, nodding to Sigma looking at them attentively. "It's ok this time, Theta."

Theta stayed on North's shoulder, peering at Sigma carefully. Sigma waited patiently, studying the space where his toes would be, glancing up when Theta advanced to the end of North's nose before fleeing back to North's ear. York jerked his elbow out of range of North's nudge, sighing in defeat when he looked at Theta cowering from the crowd.

"I can't believe this," York grumbled. "Delta, get out here."

York looked expectantly at his shoulder, clearing his throat impatiently until Delta appeared, looking York in the face.

"Do you need something, Agent York," Delta asked, ignoring his audience.

"This is Sigma," York pointed. "Go make nice."

Delta stayed put, still looking to York as he said, "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do, say hi," York ordered curtly. "He's still learning the ropes."

"Regulations state-"

"D, I said do it," York lost his patience, pointing to the air between himself and where Sigma was waiting. 

Delta stared at York until York pointed again, then slowly rotated in midair and inched towards Sigma, leaving more than a foot of space between himself and the new AI.  Sigma remained expressionless towards Delta, drifting almost imperceptibly forward while Delta obediently stood his ground, bobbing his head up and down once to inspect Sigma.

"Hello," Delta's voice sounded harsh and sharp after Sigma and Theta. "I am Delta, Agent York's AI. You are the program known as Sigma."

"Yes," Sigma said, sinking to be shorter than Delta. "My name is Sigma."

York frowned at Delta's back, North's eyebrows knitting together at Sigma's strong assertion. Sigma had been soft with Theta and deferential to humans, but this had been said straight to Delta, without even a pause to listen to Maine's decision. Delta remained unmoved, never looking at Theta, who had started to appear from behind North's shoulder to watch the other AIs now that Sigma's attention had been drawn away.

"It, he's, got balls," Wash marveled.

"Don't give the programmers ideas," North shushed, watching Delta carefully.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Sigma continued against Delta's silence, addressing Delta with the same focus he had addressed Carolina with.

"They are attempting to ease your integration with my assistance," Delta said coldly.

"Just as you met Theta," Sigma looked to the middle AI, causing him to duck out of sight.

"Such interactions are kept to a minimum, only under the supervision of our handlers and in combat situations, if necessary," Delta finished his explanation as if Sigma hadn't spoken. "Agent York and Agent North Dakota do not always abide by these policies."

"How were you integrated?" Sigma asked. "You were the first to be assigned an agent."

"I was created first," Delta agreed formally. "I preceded the creation of program Theta by 6 days, 45 minutes, and 6 seconds, and your creation by 4 weeks, 2 days, and-"

"That was when you were partnered with Agent York?" Sigma asked.

York's scowl deepened, Theta shrinking again at the sudden interruption. Connie whistled, whispering sarcastically, "We can interrupt him?" into the stunned silence. Sigma sank until his head level with Delta's chest, backing towards Maine when Delta didn't respond. Delta looked down at Sigma, his glow pulsing and triggering a flinch from York.

"Yes. As you were given to assist Agent Maine," Delta said without inflection.

"The mission as well," Sigma added, offering Delta his hand.

Delta looked at Sigma's hand with none of the curiosity Sigma had radiated over Carolina and Maine's gesture, finally jerking his head up to look over the top of Sigma's head. Carolina was relieved when Delta flashed out without acknowledging Sigma's offering, facing York when he reappeared.

"Is that all that you required, Agent York?" Delta asked.

"So much for making nice," Wash laughed nervously, shrinking in discomfort when no one else laughed.

"Yeah...that's good...good enough, D," the words were barely out of York's mouth before Delta had disappeared, joined by Theta before North had finished mumbling, "That's enough, Theta."

Sigma rose to stand level with where Delta had been standing, staring into the air with a blank face. Sigma had stopped with body language too, standing straight and still, his caricatures of human posture nowhere to be seen.

"Don't take it...you didn't do anything wrong," Carolina assured. 

"Theta got some extra paranoia, and Delta doesn't like anyone," Wash added. "Can... _can_ Delta like things?"

"I'll let you know," York retorted, still studying Sigma.

Sigma twitched in the air, disappearing in a burst of fire and returning to Maine's shoulder, naturally following Maine when the agent rose.

"Agent Maine will report to the training room tomorrow at 9," Sigma informed crisply as Maine shouldered past the agents and headed for the living quarters. "Please schedule your own personal training accordingly."

Maine growl was more approving as he walked away, ignoring Wash's "Good talk!" behind his back. Sigma turned back for a moment, rushing to his post when Maine's snarl returned to one of displeasure.

"I'm surprised Sigma could find any words in that guy's head to use," South said as Maine disappeared around the corner. "I think he just said more syllables than Maine has said since I've met him."

"Looks like the programming is getting better," Wyoming noted, sliding out of his seat and strolling after Maine. "Not that we can tell if Maine is trying to spout nonsense, but it knows how to shut up, and it doesn't look as if it's going to piddle on the carpet. Wonder what it can do...incendiary shots?"

"We'll see in a few days, once Maine has had a chance to teach him something useful," Carolina tried not to sound as gleefully intrigued as Wyoming.

"Wonder if we can teach this one tricks," Wash thought aloud as they walked back to their rooms. "He learned shake pretty damn fast."

Carolina rolled her eyes and let Connie punch Wash for that one. It had been anticlimactic, she thought gratefully and guiltily. Sigma might be easier to communicate with than Maine, and Maine seemed to like letting Sigma do the talking. If Sigma picked up strategy and weapons as fast as he picked up gestures and vocabulary, it wouldn't be long before he was as skilled as Delta.

"Maine gets the training room," Carolina seconded firmly, dismissing herself to her quarters to let the other squabble over room rights.

Carolina breathed a sigh of relief to be in her room, relishing privacy after a day of doctors, waiting rooms, and babysitting Wash and Connie. Wash wasn't as foolish as he looked, acted, and tried to be, and his chance for an AI was approaching fast. It might straighten the kid out, Carolina considered, having a copilot in his mess of a brain. Connie might get an AI faster if she focused more on training and less time questioning her superiors' methods. South was last on the list, serving as a control test against her brother until the Director was satisfied the AIs were enhancing performance acceptably.

"I am off the clock," Carolina called, kicking off her slacks and pulling on shorts. "York, if you hack my door-"

"Ok!" York shouted from the other side, before there was a knock. "Permission to enter?"

Much too convinced of his own charm, Carolina decided, waiting to open the door until she heard York mutter, "Oh, come on..." and sigh regretfully. Ignoring his grin, Carolina let York see himself in, hopping into her bed and sprawling out until York slunk to the chair at her desk.

"Did you yank Delta out already?" Carolina asked in surprise when she heard York give a new distinctive sigh of relief.

"Hell yes," York said forcefully. "If I had to listen to him try and decode the meaning of a handshake any longer, I was going to store him for good. If he wasn't so uptight, I'd say he was jealous Sigma caught on so fast."

"It might not hurt for Delta to learn body language," Carolina laughed. "Before Connie or South tries to fry him."

"I don't think Delta would take my feelings into account if he wasn't forced to hear them," York said, leaning back in the chair. "Scratch that, I know he wouldn't. Little cockbite."

Carolina shook her head at York's world weary tone. Much as York didn't want to admit it, he and Delta were a good pair. York handled the public relations side and Delta covering his ass with hacking. York was nicer to Theta, but Carolina suspected he had fun testing how much sarcasm it would take for Delta to notice and snap. Carolina stopped laughing at the thought when she saw York frown at the ceiling, cutting his pissing and moaning abnormally short.

"What's with the face?" Carolina asked. "You're not a looker to start with."

"Ha," York grunted, stubbornly keeping the frown and insolently propping his socked feet on Carolina's desk. "Sigma's different, huh?"

"Your powers of observation are fucking flooring," Carolina snorted.

"I'm just saying, whoever designed his hologram probably needs to be screened through psych again," York insisted.

"He seems designed for the job," Carolina said,  instead thinking of Sigma's quiet smile that didn't fit Maine's tough demeanor. "He needs to communicate in public more than Delta or Theta, they probably took that into consideration when the designed him, like the face."

"Hmmm..." York hummed thoughtfully, scratching at the scar above him implant. "Yeah, nothing says 'people person' like a man on fire."

"You sound like Connie," Carolina accused, curling up her legs and leaning back against her pillows. "You're just jealous that Maine got a hologram with cooler graphics."

York snorted, rubbing his eyes and rolling his neck fussily, as if getting accustomed to his own body. Carolina refused to giggle as she watched him wiggle his toes in thought. York let North be the vocal brains of their dysfunctional duo, and liked playing a more mature clown than Wash, but his mind was sharp enough to keep his skills in demand and worth the fee. She hadn't expected this much thought over a new AI, especially before his test in training, but Sigma had arrived with more of a bang then anticipated.

"Yeah, probably," York finally admitted, coming to at the end of the bed. "Theta and Delta look like holograms for a combat simulation. Been there, done that."

"You get an combat AI, and you're worried it looks too much like a combat VI," Carolina laughed. "Never knew you were a tech snob."

"I'm a hacker, I'm paid to be a tech snob," York said defensively. "Otherwise the corporate dicks win and we settle for out dated computers and basic VI incompetence. That's the while point of this, to show the Council that they can't bury their heads in a Presidium fountain and pretend we're back to a time before the geth and the Reapers. It's bullshit, letting a quarian screw up and a race of space bulldozers-"

Carolina sighed, sitting up and pulling off her shorts while she pretended to listen to York ramble. It was no wonder he had gotten an AI first, he'd have harassed North to the grave if he hadn't had one to examine and critique for himself. 

"York," Carolina interrupted, taking off her shirt and dropping it on the floor.

"Sorry, I know, AIs redistribute power and that messes with-" York finally looked up when Carolina unsnapped her bra. "Oh."

"No, you were saying something about power distribution?" Carolina got comfortable, tucking one arm behind her head and twirling the bra around a finger on her other hand. 

"AI's a booming market waiting to be tapped into, we should get on it," York ended his talk succinctly, tearing his shirt off and flinging his shorts across the room.

 He was far too convinced he was charming, Carolina reminded herself when York let her win the wrestle for who got to be on top without a fight. But she could work with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We didn't get Sigma's introduction in the series, he was already established with Maine by the time he appeared in AI class. I try to capture Sigma's mannerisms effectively, but he's only just been installed so Sigma's personality and dynamic with Maine and the others is still forming here, because Sigma's still learning. I don't want that to confuse/annoy anyone expecting him to be identical to his canon personality right off the bat. Additionally, Sigma/Maine [pre-Meta] don't have an armor enhancement assigned, that we see, so they'll likely receive one based on RvB or ME skills.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since these things hit people differently; I'm changing the fallout from Horizon. Kaidan/Ash could handle it better, but so could Shepard. It's a lot to handle for Ash/Kaidan when Shep says, "S'up, babe? Sorry I told everyone but you I was alive, wanna join the terrorists who killed/manipulated various people in unethical experiments last game and then secretly rebuilt me? Of course I'm not being manipulated!" and then they didn't talk until fleeing Earth and having Cerberus be at the first place Shepard landed. Communication and trust is a two way street, and Shepard didn't reach out to Kaidan/Ash before or after Horizon either (due to game limitations, but still). Here it's implied that there was some communication after Kaidan's apology in ME2.  
> I, like many, don't adore the ending, so it's tweaked to imply the Crucible AI had ulterior motives.  
> The fact that Kaidan is bisexual is common knowledge in this, so it comes up in passing, similar to North. And, yes, Shep ruins the chain of command as they woo Kaidan, Ash, Vega, Jacob, Joker, Cortez, Traynor, Kelly, Tali, etc. I get why they allow it for the story/player, and the characters don't really care, but it is illegal in reality and uncomfortable to ponder. I can only stress that Kaidan isn't her subordinate here, he's a Spectre, and also isn't acting in the same chain of command. I leave it to personal interpretation whether or not they had the pre-Ilos nookie during their ME1 fling.

_"Hang on, I'll come back for you," Shepard promised._

_"I think we both know that's not gonna happen," Ashley shook her head and laughed sadly. "Hey, I've got no regrets, Skipper."_

_Shepard sprang for Ashley's hand, closing her fingers around wisps of shadow that disintegrated as soon as they touched her skin. Ashley was gone, fading away without a fight, until Shepard was left with wandering shadows that she didn't recognize._

_"Commander Shepard," Thane's voice vibrated through her when he appeared, as silent and as suddenly as the dark figures marching around them._

_It was Thane as he should be, tall and proud, his wide eyes staring at Shepard, into Shepard. He didn't smile, as solemn as he had been in life, but radiating a serene and reassuring calm, peace, and acceptance  Thane had always been welcomed by the shadows, and even now, the shadows gathered around him while he acted as if he didn't notice the chill and endless whispers._

_"Thank you for watching Kolyat in my absence," Thane said, lowering his eyes when he thought of his son._

_"He's taking the Citadel by storm," Shepard could rejoice in that much. "Crime's dropped to new lows, thanks to his work with C-Sec."_

_"Will you pray with me?" Thane invited, stretched his hands out to Shepard with his palms facing up and his fingers spread, calling Shepard closer._

_"I would be honored," Shepard agreed, walking towards Thane slowly, not trusting her eyes to tell the truth in this place._

_"As would I," Thane's smile appeared, a subtle change hidden to most._

_"I don't know how," Shepard explained, ashamed as she reached for Thane's hands. "I don't remember..."_

_"You will learn," Thane assured tenderly , his gentle hands falling away from Shepard's in a black fog._

_Shepard let Thane go, wondering if shadows could find their way across the sea, and praying any way she knew how that he could. The shadows surrounding where Thane had been standing dispersed, whispering half forgotten words, familiar words and alien words, words from worlds Shepard couldn't know._

_"I did not expect to find you down here, Commander," Javik's wry observation was strangely comforting._

_"I think I'm lost," Shepard looked around at the identical trees and fog for where Javik could have come from._

_"Only the weak and foolish get lost in dreams," Javik criticized, baring his teeth in disappointment. "You had convinced me that you were better than that. As a commander, you must be."_

_Javik's eyes combed over Shepard before he turned away, walking steadily towards the fog. Shepard wanted to run after him and make him stay, but something held her back, letting the warrior go until the shadows swallowed him, erasing the last Prothean before Shepard's eyes._

_"You can't help me," a piteous voice accompanied a tug on Shepard's wrist._

_Feeling the cold of the shadows seep under her skin, Shepard turned slowly, looking down into the clear eyes of the little boy, as fearful now as they had been staring out at her from the duct she had first seen him in. He shone red, the flames climbing and burning away his outer shell until his entire body was the shining blue of his eyes and the flames sputtered out, taking the shadows with them and leaving he and Shepard alone._

_"But I can help you," the boy assured, taking Shepard's hand, his grip cold and strong, unlike the gentle light he emitted._

_Shepard wordlessly followed the child into the dark forest, the trees thinning the farther they walked, the ground previously covered in leaves becoming a hard flat path with a deep chasm on each side, until there was only one way forward._

_"It's too late, Shepard," the Illusive Man said sorrowfully, his artificial eyes pinpricks from the dark. "I tried."_

_Shepard dragged her feet as a light appeared ahead, widening as the child dragged her onward with single-minded urgency. His hand crushed Shepard's fingers as he walked on steadily, as if he didn't feel Shepard's hesitation._

_"You did good, child," Anderson assured behind her, gone when she turned back for answers._

_When she looked forward, Shepard raised a hand to shield her eyes against the blinding light enveloping her. Dropping her hand and walking several paces ahead, the child looked up at the shining column of light. Shepard felt an aching pain spread across her entire body, and looked down past the gun in the hand the child had released. Blood drops were spreading to meet each other on the white floor, the blood seeping out from a gaping gash in Shepard's side. The child seemed to sense her confusion, turning around and staring at Shepard with a smooth face, the only features the shallow indents where an eyes and mouth should be._

_"You have made me realize that my solution will no longer suffice. It's your decision," the child said with an ancient voice behind his innocence, the tone swirling between sadness, ambivalence, relief, and the cold snap of an obvious truth._

_"I don't..." Shepard gasped in pain, her vision blurring and her lungs burning. "I can't see..."_

_"You now have the power to destroy us," the child continued as if Shepard should know what it was talking about, indicating a supporting pillar on his left, glowing red._

_"And..." Shepard looked past the child and the beam, to the ships of turians, asari, human, even krogan, exploding alongside stars in the path of Reaper beams in space around them. "That will end the war?"_

_"For a time," the child coldly decimated Shepard's hope. "But your children will make synthetics, and_ _the cycle will continue. The technology you use will be effected, your own synthetic organs, and the geth."_

_"Or, you could Control them," the Catalyst indicated he blue pillar on his other side. "And decide for yourself what to do with the Reapers."_

_"So...the Illusive Man was right?" Shepard asked in disbelief._

_"Yes," the Catalyst said slowly. "It is possible to control the Reapers."_

_" **I** could control the Reapers?" Shepard wheezed._

_"Your physical existence would be sacrificed," the Catalyst said after a pause that rang in Shepard's already ringing ears."But the Reapers will be controlled."_

_"Or," the Catalyst continued past Shepard's open mouth, looking at the column of light in the center of the walkway. "There is Synthesis. The joining of organic and synthetic life. When the two gain understanding though the joining, there will be peace. It is the inevitable conclusion, the ultimate stage of evolution."_

_"Then why couldn't you do it sooner?" Shepard accused, thinking of the lives, organic and synthetic, that had been lost trying to reach that peace._

_The Catalyst hesitated again, looking at the towering beam of light in front of them. Still staring into the light, the Catalyst said, "We have tried something...similar in the past. But it has always failed. It is not something that can be forced."_

_"Then why now?" Shepard asked, swallowing down blood as she threatened to topple over._

_The Catalyst gazed at the beam, avoiding Shepard's face as he said, "You are ready. A merging of your organic body and synthetic repairs. You would be destroyed and dispersed across the galaxy, but it is the best chance."_

_"Chance," Shepard repeated, her knees starting to shake and the world swirling around her. "And if it doesn't work?"_

_The Catalyst turned to face Shepard again, the hollows that were his eyes twinkling up at her, echoes behind his childish voice as he said, "Then many will die. But there will be some survivors. And eventually, the cycle will resume, until Synthesis is achieved. But it is the best chance you have to end it now. Isn't that what you want?"_

_Shepard stumbled, refusing to sink to the floor and rest as her left leg threatened to collapse. She could finished what they had planned, destroy the Reapers, but continue the cycle. No, Shepard thought of the geth, of Tali cradling Legion's body until he was carried away to the Normandy, and of EDI watching Joker and changing her protocols to put the crew before her self preservation. They were already putting that behind them, already evolved past the Reaper and Catalyst expectations. They would rebuild._

_She could Control the Reapers. Someone could Control the Reapers. Shepard thought of the Illusive Man's triumph at the report from Sanctuary, and then his gleaming eyes surrounded by grey and cracking skin. Someone had always controlled the Reapers, Shepard watched the Catalyst look up at the battle around them._

_Or, she could risk Synthesis. The merging of two factions that had struggled to understand each other since the creation of synthetic life. She was dead anyway, her blood was pouring out with each breath. But what right did she have to force that on the entire galaxy? If it worked. If Shepard's sacrifice broke the failures of the past and changed everything and everyone she loved in a flash, on the promise of failed machine._

_Shepard tightened her hand around the gun. They had come too far, and sacrificed too many to risk on chance. They had lost too many to trust a machine who had destroyed their own creators and offered half promises, Shepard dragged her leg, pulling the trigger and turning away from the sparks of the red pillar. Again, and again, Shepard fired, the engine bellowing as a wall of flame rushed to envelope her as the Reapers burst into pieces overhead._

_"Shepard Commander," Legion appeared as the flames surrounded her, asking earnestly, "Does this one have a soul?_

_The stars stared down at Shepard accusingly before black space above crumpled, swallowing Shepard whole in the soothing embrace of death. It was done, Shepard thought as the floor and Citadel rained around her, leaving in the dark, without shadows, without gunfire, without memories._

_"Shepard, Commander...Shepard!" a voice wormed into her brain. "Commander Shepard!"_

_"What..." Shepard groaned, dust falling onto her face as she forced her eyes open, wondering what more could be done._

_Shepard tried to scream as the empty eye of a geth stared at her, choking on a throat full of ash and clotting blood. Turning her head as far as her aching neck would allow, Shepard cried out at the metal bodies that had replaced the corpses the keepers had been stacking. Piles of discarded geth platforms towered over Shepard, Legion's N-7 plate reflecting the beam of a search light._

_"That's...that's impossible," Shepard's mouth and lips stung from the simple sentence. "This isn't..."_

_"We found her!!!" a voice called, the pile o geth beside her crumbled into ash, dark dust raining down on Shepard's face. "My god, we actually found her."_

_"No...no," Shepard begged, clawing at the ash around her as it caked into her sweat soaked hands and the geth melted together into mountains of rock and ash. "No."_

_"Shepard...Shepard...Shepard!" the voice continued as Shepard dug deeper, searching for the darkness. "Shepard..."_

Shepard woke up gasping for air, coughing at dust that wasn't there and clutching at the scar on her side. The sweat was real, soaking her hair and coating her skin. The cold floor of her cabin soothed her fingertips where the skin raw from clawing at metal. The pressure on her chest was her own knees, the rasp in her throat wasn't from ash or blood but from saliva and mucus from her sobs, and the dampness on her face from sweat and tears. She was back.

"Shepard," Kaidan's voice was soothing, quiet and close by after the distant shouting echoing through the ruins Citadel.

Shepard wiped her face on her arm, looking up to see Kaidan sitting in the center of her bed, his legs crossed tightly in front of his body. Relief washed over Kaidan's face when Shepard pushed herself up on her arms. Shepard's hip hurt from where it had hit the floor when she'd landed. The blankets, sheets, and pillows had been kicked from the bed, and Shepard's desk chair was knocked over on the floor.

"Hey," Shepard croaked, gulping back nausea.

"Hey," Kaidan replied, unfolding his legs and scooting to the edge of the bed before sliding to sit on the floor. "Welcome back."

Shepard swallowed, sitting up. Sitting across from Kaidan's concerned gaze, Shepard curled her legs towards her and rubbed her face on her arm again, checking for smudges of dirt without thinking. Kaidan leaned forward, but stayed sitting by the bed. They both knew Shepard had to climb back to reality herself. Shepard inspected him carefully, terrified of finding new bruises where she had struck out in her sleep.

"You fell first this time," Kaidan said, showing her his unmarred chest and arms, twisting to show Shepard his back and shoulders. 

"Great," Shepard cupped her face in her hands, scrubbing the last of the sweat and tears away and pushing back her escaping bangs. "Did I break anything?"

"If you're alright, the cabin is fine," Kaidan assured, standing up and going to Shepard's desk, righting the desk chair. "They make ship furniture sturdy."

Shepard crawled forwards, taking a seat with her back against the bed beside where Kaidan had waited. Kaidan dug through the top desk drawer, taking out a small jar and a rag. Returning to Shepard's side and taking a seat, Kaidan held out his hand, keeping his hand flat when Shepard placed her hand in it.

"This wasn't included in the frontier romance novels," Shepard said as Kaidan bent over her shredded nails and finger tips.

"I stopped believing those after I was...escorted...to the frontier," Kaidan dabbed weak medigel on Shepard's hands. ""They missed a lot of things...a lot of important things. And they lied about other things."

Kaidan stroked his thumb along the back of Shepard's hand, blowing softly  on her finger tips to dry the gel, gently taking the other one and repeating the procedure. Shepard lay her head against his shoulder, letting him roll his shoulder before resting her head in the hollow by his neck.

"You don't have to stay in here," Shepard pointed out, wincing as one of her nails tore off and oozed fresh blood.

Kaidan laughed grimly, shifting closer to Shepard so his knee was under hers, reaching around her shoulders to hold her hand still as he finished applying the gel. Shepard jerked her hand back as the rag got caught on her cracked skin, sighing in relief as the gel sealed the skin back together.

"Is that a hint, or a request?" Kaidan asked softly, carefully. Kaidan didn't fall under Shepard's command anymore, even more so as a pair of Spectres, but Kaidan was careful to give Shepard control of her quarters and final say over her ship.

"No," Shepard assured. "Just a sensible suggestion. I have those...sometimes."

"Then I'll stay where I am. As long as you can stand me," Kaidan offered as he set aside the jar and rag, linking his hands around Shepard's shoulders when she nodded.

Shepard and Kaidan heaved a sigh in unison, knowing they were thinking the same thing. It had been years since Kaidan had walked away on Horizon and written to wish Shepard luck. He was still trying to make amends, and Shepard was still wondering if she could have followed him, instead of the Illusive Man further into his web. It hadn't been easy, sifting for a way to reconnect over the odd tip from Kaidan to keep Shepard free until the Collectors fell, the responding warning from Shepard to keep someone chipping away the Alliance from inside, before they had a fleeting chance to finally be together in the shadow of the Reapers. But Kaidan had always strived to follow his head, not just his heart, even with Shepard. It was one of the things Shepard loved, and something Shepard needed.

"Is it the mercenaries?" Kaidan asked carefully, trying to find the line Shepard didn't want crossed this night. "Or the Citadel?"

"Getting our asses kicked and going to the Citadel to get written up for it doesn't _help_ ," Shepard admitted, rushing on. "But they're improving it with each...remodel."

"They could try to use the comm," Kaidan reprimanded protectively. 

"They want to humiliate me in person. How's your head?" Shepard asked. Kaidan had been trying to hide his migraines since the fight on Nasurn.

"Ah, I'm out of practice," Kaidan deflected with practiced ease. "If my students saw me now, they'd laugh me to the end of the galaxy."

"Joker would not appreciate the side trip to get you," Shepard teased, resting her shoulder against Kaidan's chest.

"Who says I'd need a pick up?" Kaidan asked.

"Who else would come and get you from the edge of the galaxy?" Shepard retorted.

"I guess I should thank Joker," Kaidan smiled.

Shepard leaned into Kaidan's kiss on her cheek, sighing deeply and letting the warmth of a living person replace the chill of the dead and the past. Kaidan let go quickly when Shepard stood up, rising with her and keeping his distance until Shepard reached for him, kissing him deeply and shoving him down onto the bed.

"Get some sleep," Shepard suggested, throwing the blankets in a ball over him. "I'm gonna hit the showers."

Kaidan nodded, leaning up for another kiss and resting his hands on the curves between Shepard's ribs and hips, whispering, "You're ok?"

"Sweaty. Thirsty," Shepard assured between kisses.

"Shepard..." Kaidan sighed. "I'm not here just for show."

"Kaidan, it was just a nightmare. I'd be more worried if we didn't get them," Shepard projected confidence she wished she had by kissing Kaidan firmly. "I'm going to go shower in the crew bathrooms."

"You can-" Kaidan nodded to Shepard's shower.

"That was a hint," Shepard informed affectionately through a final kiss, pushing Kaidan down into the pillows. "Go back to sleep."

Kaidan obediently lay down, but Shepard could feel him watching her as she pulled on a loose shirt and shorts and threw her towel over her shoulder. Leaving Kaidan to get some needed rest, Shepard walked to the door, sighing and speaking into her omnitool, "EDI, you can unlock the door."

"Of course, Commander," the lock on Shepard's door blinked to green and hissed open. "If you would like me to change-"

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard interrupted.

The lukewarm shower in the women's room made Shepard feel clean again, washing away the groggy ache of jolting out of a nightmare. It made her miss her early days in the military, when she was part of a crowd, in the trenches with her fellow grunt, not elevated by the media, legend, and rumors. Wrapping her dripping hair, Shepard wandered through her ship. Liara's quarters were dark, Garrus would be sleeping with Tali by the hum of the engines, and Mordin's lab lights had been dimmed. James might be awake, but Shepard didn't want to spar, and she knew better than to disturb Grunt or Jack.

"Sure, you get them to the ground," Joker's voice drifted from the dining hall next to the clink of mugs. "But I get _you_ to the planet. Without me, there's no mission."

"Without  _me_ , you'd still be flinging them out of the back in a Mako," Cortez reminded. "Those things aren't cheap to repair."

"We did just fine with ours," Joker bragged and fibbed. 

"Sure, if 'fine' means making do with a clunky, gas guzzling bad equipped excuse for a tank," Cortez asked. "You ever take down a Harvester with a Kodiak?

"Oh come on, you can't keep using that one! You ever take down a Collector ship?" Joker challenged. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"Ok, but I wasn't on that mission," Cortez reminded as he poured himself a cup if cream and joined Joker at the table.

"Nah, you weren't," Joker said smugly, digging through the pack of cookies in front of him and holding up one to ponder.

"Oh, it is too late for this pissing contest," Cortez groaned, adding cream to his coffee and leaning his head on his hands in defeat.

"Ha, I win," Joker grinned triumphantly at Cortez's sigh, rewarding himself when the cookie passed inspection. "Yeah, by default, but better to win somehow."

"You're still having this fight?" Shepard asked, waving Cortez down when he sprang up to fetch her a mug. "I'm already over here. Haven't you called it a draw after years of this?"

"Eh, Steve likes to try a rematch now and then, poor guy," Joker shook his head at Cortez's foolishness. "Has Kasumi been eating these again? She has no respect for labels."

"Why are you still up?" Shepard asked, taking a seat and warming her hands on the mug, smiling in defeat when Cortez poured her a helping of cream and offered her a sugar packet. "EDI's got the ship covered."

"I have to have a bed time snack," Joker shoved a cookie into his mouth, mumbling defensively. "What? It helps me sleep!"

"I still haven't figured out how you are in shape," Cortez grumbled enviously, stirring his coffee and guiltily stealing a cookie to nibble.

"Well, obesity isn't an option for me. If I get too fat, my knees'll burst and I won't even be able to hobble. Thanks for reminding me, that's really nice," Joker toasted the shuttle pilot, laughing when Cortez looked mortified.

"And you?" Shepard chuckled, patting Cortez reassuringly.

"Turns out taking a Pelican wing to the body will do some damage," Cortez glared at the damage to his precious shuttle. "I'll have the Kodiak up and running like new in a few hours."

"We don't need it combat ready that fast," Shepard said. "We've talked about these things called 'breaks,' remember?"

"I've learned to be prepared for anything on this ship. Besides, we're headed to the Citadel," Cortez said. "I'll take a break there. Killing some time in the markets will be nice."

"Shopping for someone?" Joker teased.

"Now who's being mean?" Cortez accused.

"Hey, James might like something nice after being kept up by your welding," Joker pointed out, grinning deviously. "Or...whatever you two do down there."

"That's just _gross_ ," Cortez winced, scrubbed crumbs off his mouth. "Are we even now?"

"I dunno," Shepard shrugged, smiling into her mug. "It might not be so bad."

"What about Kaidan?" Cortez asked in surprise, looking around nervously while Joker looked at Shepard with gleeful curiosity.

"What about him?" Shepard asked, laughing.

"I can see him being into that," Joker said thoughtfully, nodding in confirmation. "Not with James, 'cause it's James, and Kaidan's an uptight swan about relationships, but the strong handsome caring military type...kinda like Shepard, but a dude? Oh, yeah, he could go for that. And clearly Shepard likes that type too, so if you could convince Kaidan to loosen up and get a teensy bit 'wild'...I just grossed myself out." _  
_

"Oh, I'm telling him that swan comment. And Kaidan and I are doing just fine, thank you. I just meant, it's not the worse prospect," Shepard shook her head at Joker's self-satisfied grin before looking sideways at Cortez. 

Cortez spluttered and wiped off his mouth while Joker howled with laughter, snorting as he choked on his coffee. Cortez shoved his coffee cup away, grimacing unhappily and then grabbing his cup and taking a swig.

"I have to _bunk_ down there," Cortez reminded wrathfully. "Mordin is more likely to sleep with you."

"Oooooh, too far, man," Joker held up his hands when Cortez pointed at him. "I bet Mordin had mad game with the salarian females."

"You know that's not what determines which salarians mate, right?" Cortez begged. "Please, tell me you know that."

"Hey, he had mad game with Eve, if Wrex hadn't stepped in," Joker reminded. "And they're technically responsible for the current krogan birthrate, so...kinda makes you wish Mordin had less game, when you look at it that way."

"I thought you had someone on the Citadel...um..." Shepard thought, moving away from the old joke before Cortez lost his good patience. "Bryan? Ry...an?"

"Very close, Commander. David," Cortez chuckled. "Nah, that ended last shore leave. It was just some fun."

"Well, at least you're finally having some," Joker praised, finishing his coffee. "You'll get the hang of it eventually."

"You know you aren't funny?" Cortez asked over his shoulder.

"Keep trying!" Joker encouraged with a thumbs up, heading for the elevator and leaving Shepard and Cortez with his dirty dishes.

Cortez shook his head, shuddering at Joker's sense of humor and sipping his coffee to fortify himself. It was no worse than how James would have reacted to the suggestion, but it made Shepard smile. Cortez had risked happiness with more ease since the Reapers had fallen. Nothing had stuck yet, but there was no rush now that Cortez was looking. He was lagging behind James in attempts, but it was no secret that he had more success.

"Would you like more?" Cortez asked as he refilled his cup, finishing the pot and rejoining Shepard. "Is the Council on your case?"

"They aren't happy," Shepard said, gritting her teeth from further criticism when Cortez groaned in agreement. "But I thought I'd let Kaidan get some sleep, if I couldn't."

Cortez nodded sympathetically, sipping his fresh cup to buy time. It was hard to keep her private life private when Garrus, then James and Cortez had all her cowering in the elevator after clawing her way out of her own cabin. That was before she had thought to have EDI lock her in.

"If you need to unwind," Cortez offered. "James is planning to restock while we're there, and the shuttle bay is always open."

"Perfect follow up to the shooting contest Grunt, Garrus, and Tali have planned," Shepard said, ticking activities off on her fingers. "And the clubbing Jack wants James and me to do, for her amusement, I think, you're invited too. Before I refill our med bay inventory with Mordin, and have lunch with Liara, and then pick Grunt up from security...oh, and Kasumi wants me to help pick up 'better sheets.'"

"Ow, Kaidan, no date?" Cortez laughed.

"And that, I owe Kaidan a drink, or five," Shepard finished her coffee, gathered up her and Joker's dishes and rinsed them in the sink, taking Cortez's when he joined her. "I might have to tell the Council they'll have to wait for next shore leave."

"Good," Cortez said firmly, gulping the last of his coffee and drying the dishes Shepard handed him. "They can work on your time for once."

Shepard laughed at the idea, drying her hands and watching Cortez put the dishes away. The invitations to occupy her had flooded in as soon as they had gotten word that the Council was calling them back to the Citadel to explain the failure on Nasurn. EDI, Mordin and Tali had been sifting through the avalanche of programs the mercenaries had stolen for three days. They had found the prototype Aria had given them, but there were surveillance and sabotage programs that could do more damage if the mercenaries paired them with their already impressive hacking skill and penchant for destruction. The Council was looking for someone to blame, and was willing to drag Shepard back to get it.

"Well, after you meet with them," Cortez continued lightly when Shepard thought too long. "Join me, Jack, James, and anyone we can get to the club, and we'll test the candidates for Mr. Vega's new inventory."

Coretz leaned on the sink with Shepard, watching her reaction carefully and smiling when Shepard looked at him gratefully.

"Thanks," Shepard accepted. "I could use that."

"Don't mention it," Cortez shrugged, getting up and yawning. "You'd be doing me a favor, James doesn't have tastes past mescal and cheap beer, I'd love a good bottle of whisky. Anyway, I should be repairing the shuttle...or sleeping, I know. Good night, Shepard."

Cortez left Shepard with a pat on her shoulder, stretching on his way to the elevator. He would be up for at least another hour, tinkering with the shuttle until James ordered him to shut up. Shaking her head in resignation, Shepard circled the ship before she summoned the elevator to return to her cabin.

Kaidan was sleeping soundly when Shepard, turning over and blinking open his eyes for a moment when the door clicked shut. In the next instant he was asleep again, sighing as Shepard moved his arm and climbed under the straightened blankets. Closing her eyes, Shepard yawned, rolling closer to Kaidan's back when he rolled.

 _Shepard Commander_ , Legion asked her as she drifted off, joined by innumerable geth behind him. _Does this one have a soul? Do I have a soul?_


	9. Chapter 9

"Come on, Connie," Wash grit his teeth when Connie's knuckles cracked across his arm. "You need to lighten up."

Connecticut scoffed, throwing a left hook and ducking under Wash's swing. Wash was an easy warm up. He fought like a bar brawler, untrained and sloppy, leaving plenty of openings for Connie to jab at in his energetic haste. York had been teaching him how to throw and box, but unless Connie stood still, he was never going to put the skills to use.

"I'm not uptight," Connie belted Wash in the gut. "I'm pissed off."

"Yeah," Wash cradled his bruised stomach. "I can tell."

Connie backed off to give Wash a chance to recover, looking around the training room. South was repairing and modifying their armory, York and North were getting a checkup, and Carolina was taking inventory, mumbling to herself about getting more explosives after Maine had used them all. Glaring down from above the observation window was the ranking board. Maine had jumped a space, replacing York under Carolina's reigning leadership. Connie gnashed her teeth at her name, stagnant between Wash and South, just above the bottom.

"I hate that thing," Connie grumbled, rubbing her knuckles in preparation for another round.

"You think about it too much," Wash shrugged. "It's not like they're going to fire us if we don't make the top 10."

"Just keep away the good shit," Connie said bitterly.

"Hey, you already got the hologram," Wash reminded, jumping back. "I'm stuck with North's hand me downs."

"Yeah, 'cause North's guns are _worse_  when he's done with them," Connie said incredulously.

"You know what I mean," Wash grunted, shaking off an elbow to his face. "You got a test upgrade, and now you're on the waiting list for the next generation, just like everyone else."

"It's bullshit," Connie said, backing up to give herself space as frustration distracted her from the fight. "I've logged more combat hours than you."

"Yeah, well, we don't all get military training," Wash snapped. "They don't exactly have a rank by numbers system in the gutter."

Wash backed away, flexing his fingers irritably, and Connie dropped her fists, since she had already struck a nerve. Connie wasn't the pride of the military, but she had survived the front lines for an education. North and South each had a decade and a half of black market experience, Carolina's training had been funded by the company, Wyoming had been a bounty hunter, and Maine...Connie had never had the courage to ask, but York had hinted that it involved mercenary work. But Wash was just Wash. He'd started smuggling to eat when he was fifteen, and built a name for himself on Earth during the war until North had dragged him to Carolina for a better offer with room and board thrown in. His contacts kept helped stock the pantry and keep them ahead of Alliance raids, but he wasn't combat savvy.

"Like the military's so much better, anyway," Wash continued pettily, wiping sweat off of his face. "Crap food, crap pay, all so you can bust your ass to get a shiny metal that screams 'shoot at me' and look down your nose at people in the uniform you just took off. At least the Tin Can has hot water."

"You've been talking to York?" Connie almost laughed at how much York's bitterness rang through Wash's criticism.

"No," Wash blew on nicked knuckles. "I've had run ins with the military before. Some of my best customers. Not bad colleagues in a pinch, either."

Connie believed that. The Alliance probably hadn't meant to make criminal life look appealing when they were throwing mercenaries in beside troops, but once the war had ended, formerly straight laced soldiers had new friends to turn to who offered better pay and time off. It was how she and York had met Carolina and the twins.

"It wasn't all bad," Connie had a burst of nostalgic loyalty. "You didn't have the law breathing down your neck. You got to see the galaxy-"

"-and shoot at most of it-"

"Without faking the paperwork," Connie continued.

Wash waved off that concern, comfortable with with a new identity every month. While Wash was distracted, Connie rolled up her sleeve, prodding at the bruise on her arm where the bullet had grazed her. In truth, life in the military and life here weren't too different. Get up, run drills, wait for your next assignment, pray for time off in a good port. But the military had felt strange after the war. There were gaps in every unit, with every remaining soldier on edge from the shock.  Mercenary work was simpler; no colleagues to miss and no reputation to uphold.

"Speaking of bullshit paperwork," Connie teased. "You need anything from the Citadel?"

"Setting foot on it would be nice," Wash said.

"You got to go ashore at Omega," Connie reminded. "I haven't been ashore for fun in two months."

"I wouldn't call Omega fun," Wash pointed out, sighing and scratching his hair in thought. "What are their hot dogs made from? If I have to eat any more processed space cow, I'm gonna become a vegetarian."

"You're probably safer with the space cow," Connie laughed. "I meant supplies. Ammunition, spare parts, that kind of thing. And I thought Omega would be your scene."

"Like hell. Once you get out of the slums, you try not to end up in a worse shit hole?" Wash informed defensively.

"Hot showers?" Connie laughed.

"Hot showers," Wash confirmed.

"All agents, please vacate the training floor," F.I.L.S.S. suddenly crooned overhead. "All agents, please vacate the training floor."

"What's the deal, F.I.L.S.S.?" South asked, shelving the weapons she had been working on. "I just got everything laid out..."

"I'm sorry, Agent South Dakota," F.I.L.S.S. said sweetly. "Please return all guns to their designated case. The Director has ordered the floor vacated for testing."

"Already?" Connie asked in shock. Sigma had only been with Maine for three days, York and North hadn't taken their A.I.'s into a combat test for more than a week.

"I am sorry, Agent Connecticut," F.I.L.S.S. said just as pleasantly. "The Director has ordered that the training floor be vacated. Please proceed to the observation room for your own safety."

Connie frowned up at the speaker, glancing at the observation window. The Director was already watching them, with North and York standing at his shoulders. Even through the tinted glass, Connie could see North's discomfort. Maine strolled into the arena, twisting his helmet into place. Sigma drifted by his shoulder, mumbling a "Thank you" to the other agents as they passed, turning to face the observation window with Maine.

"What's with you?" Carolina asked North as she took her place beside the Director from him. "Did they probe you?"

"He's just pissy 'cause they took Theta out again," York said irritably, rubbing his neck.

"Why?"

"'Safe keeping,'" North grumbled, crossing his arms. "Whatever the hell that means."

"If I'd known they were going to yank D out every week...," York groused, dropping his hand when he caught the others watching him fidget. "I'd've stored him in my armor."

"If you would stop socializing," the Director's cold voice cut through the agents conversation. "You would get your explanation. F.I.L.S.S., release the first mech. Start with a yard, Agent Maine."

Connie looked down as a LOKI mech rose from the floor, twisting its head to find the threat. Maine scraped his blade on the floor irritably as the simple mech got its bearings. Connie squinted to find the gun LOKI's were usually given, looking to the Director when the mech clenched empty hands and marched towards Maine.

"He's mute, not crippled," South scoffed. "He'll wreck that thing faster than it took to start it up."

York grunted in irritable agreement, and Connie leaned forward to watch the massacre as the mech hobbled into range of Maine's blade. Instead, Maine scraped the blade along the floor again with a harsh screech, Sigma darting from his shoulder in a streak of orange. The mech started to shake, stuttering unfinished commands and its optical panel flickering.

"Yow!!" Wash jumped, sheilding his eyes as the mech's head exploded, the body cumpling to the floor.

Sigma appeared on Maine's shoulder from the explosion, looking up at the Director for approval or instruction. The Director's expression didn't change from his customary frown as he ordered, "F.I.L.S.S., another."

"Yes, Director," F.I.L.S.S. said cheerfully.

"Maine, two yards."

"Yes, Director," Sigma responded, staying perched on Maine's shoulder as a second mech rose out of the floor.

"Guess we know why Delta and Theta are in storage," York mumbled, leaning on the ledge of the window to get a closer look.

Maine was getting bored, pacing as the next unarmed mech marched towards him. Connie jumped in surprise when the mech, hardly off the platform that had brought it up, exploded. Sigma didn't move this time, flashing out for an instant before the mech malfunctioned, and back at Maine's side before it finished littering the floor.

"Sigma," the Director barked. "The order was two yards."

"Yes, Director," Sigma said calmly. "I did not realize this mech's damage sensors were already faulty."

York frowned, stepping away from the window and joining North in his funk. Carolina replaced him, leaning until her nose practically touched the window to see the show. The Director didn't respond to Sigma, ordering coldly, "F.I.L.S.S., multiple armed targets, three yards. Two pillars."

"Of course, Director."

Sigma drifted around Maine's shoulders, circling behind his neck as the mechs rose. Maine readjusted his grip on his blade, glancing between the two mechs, backing to put one of the pillars F.I.L.S.S. had raised in the center between them. The LOKI mechs marched slowly, their bullets biting into the center of the pillar. Connie craned to get a better look as Maine disappeared, Sigma rising to the top of the pillar and standing still, observing the mechs as they got closer. The next instant, he was gone, the closer mech bursting in a shower of parts.

"Little guy packs a punch," South almost sounded impressed.

"F.I.L.S.S.," the Director called. "Four FENRIS mechs."

The second live LOKI mech burst as violently as the first of the round, Maine running from behind the pillar as four FENRIS mechs scrambled from the grates of the floor. Sigma became visible again, streaking from one to the other, triggering a series of tremors and sparks as the mechs stumbled and fell, the last one felled by Maine's bullet.

"F.I.L.S.S., four more, two armed LOKI's."

Sigma touched Maine's shoulder, flashing out again as the mechs appeared. Sigma adjusted to the new gear fast, demolishing the closest FENRIS first, leaving the second charging mech to Maine's gun as he sabotaged the the two LOKI's from across the room.

"Uuuugh, I guess I know what I'm doing this weekend," Connie groaned, thinking of all the repairs she could be doing.

"He's got to draw an assload of power," Wash mused. "He could have lowered the shields and left the rest to Maine."

"Program Sigma utilizes a much more thorough variation of hacking and the Overload ability," the Director informed. "Four more LOKIs, F.I.L.S.S."

"He's triggering the self-destruct from the inside," York begrudgingly sounded impressed. "Mechs don't even use that until the target is closer than two feet or they're too damaged to move."

"Like a virus," Connie mumbled.

"Nah, just a really good combat hack," Carolina said confidently, pointing. "Gotta work on his stamina though."

Wash was right, for once, and the strain was starting to show. Sigma changed tactics with the next wave, reacting more slowly and leaving the mechs in a state of confusion to be picked off by Maine's gun instead of exploding them himself. Maine picked up the slack more cautiously than his typical style, ducking behind the pillars and firing when they stopped to reload, instead of dismembering them for the challenge. Sigma returned to Maine's shoulder as the last mech fell, floating quietly as Maine caught his breath.

"F.I.L.S.S.," the Director ordered calmly. "The YMIR, please. Sigma, four yards."

Connie turned to see if the Director was serious when F.I.L.S.S. accepted the command happily. The other agents were waiting too, and even South looked uneasy when they heard the larger platform screech as it ascended. Maine and Sigma snapped to attention, uneasiness punching Connie in the gut as Maine backed away from the lumbering mech, taking Sigma with him.

"Holy shit, it's armed," North swore a moment before the YMIR fired, sending a missile to demolish one of the cover pillars.

Maine sprang back, sprinting for cover as the mech fired again, leaving a new crater in the wall of the arena. Sigma was nowhere to be seen, leaving Maine sliding across the floor under the next missile with his blade behind him. Connie swore as the mech passed the designated distance, closing in on Maine and preparing another shot.

"Damn it, Sigma's out of juice. F.I.L.S.S., bring it down," Carolina ordered, heading for the stairs.

"Ignore that, F.I.L.S.S.," the Director contradicted, not flinching from his straight posture as Maine skidded to a stop while the YMIR took out the last pillar of cover.

"He still has stitches in his neck!!" Carolina shouted.

"He is one of our top agents," the Director said coldly, his green eyes snapping at Carolina from behind his glasses. "He should be able to handle himself."

Carolina growled in frustration, continuing to the stairwell with North and York on her heels. Connie hesitated, searching for Sigma's streak of orange across the floor before she followed Wash and South.

"Drop a hollogram," Wash suggested, sliding down three stairs in his haste to get to the floor. "It's stupid, that'll work."

"It's an armor enhancement, Wash," Connie reminded, tugging at her plain shirt.

"He hasn't even had the damn thing a month and now they're both going to end up scrapped," South grumbled testily.

"I'm sure us getting shot at will help too," Wash said hopelessly.

"We just need the grenade launcher," South said confidently. "That'll take it out in three hits."

"Oh, is that all?" Connie asked. "Good thing that's not _across the arena_."

"I'm with North on this one," Wash admitted. "We could use a containment field right about now."

"We made it without AIs before," South reminded.

"So did the cave man, then he got smart," Wash retorted.

South kicked open the door to the arena, and Connie measured the distance to the armory and the party across the room. North had had the same idea as South, and was already at the weapons locker, entering his authorization number to take out the weapon.

"We couldn't have a card scanner," Wash snarled, watching the mech nervously as it turned towards them.

"Look out!!" Connie twisted back into the stairwell, covering her head as the muzzle of the mech's arm glowed in preparation for another shot.

Connie braced herself for the impact, opening her eyes when there was a crackling sound from the arena, but no explosion. Peering around the corner, Connie nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of the mech's left arm going limp, sparks flying as Sigma reappeared in front of the mech, surveying at his work.

"About time!" South shouted.

Sigma looked up, flashing out and materializing at the end of South's nose.

"Thank you for your assistance," Sigma said quickly. "Please leave this to Agent Maine and myself."

"That was going so well," Wash pointed out.

"I have adjusted to the current threat," Sigma said. "You do not need to interfere."

Sigma looked back as the YMIR mech straightened itself, flying away without another word to disappear into the YMIR's neck.  North yanked the grenade launcher out of the locker, shouting in surprise as YMIR mech turned towards them.

"Goddamn, I told you we should keep those things loaded," South broke from cover, running for her brother.

North, Carolina, and York scrambled for the stairwell, North snatching a fallen grenade as he ran, sprinting into the stairwell just as the mech fired a missile at where he had been standing.

"F.I.L.S.S., we could use some help!" Connie shouted, running after South as the mech turned its attention towards the new moving target.

"I'm sorry, Agent Connecticut. You are interfering with a test. Please evacuate the training floor for your own safety."

"Great, thanks!"

Connie lurched out of Maine's way as he ran past, back to full speed with his blade poised to attack. The mech sparked again, shuddering to a halt while its left arm fell useless from targeting South. Maine sprang into the air and landed on the mech's back.

The end of Maine's blade stabbed into the crevice at the back of the YMIR's neck and shoulders, wires flying and metal screaming as Maine yanked his blade down, dropping his entire weight onto the hilt. The YMIR's head jerked forward, clattering to the floor when the few wires holding it in place snapped.

"Great, now it's a bomb," Wash groaned, turning sharply and fleeing back for the stairwell. "Thanks Maine!"

Connie ran on Wash's heels, glancing over her shoulder to make sure South and Maine were following. South was already passing Connie, but Maine had stayed where he had landed, still flicking tangled wires off of his blade. Connie stopped, judging whether she could reach Maine and drag him out of range before the mech exploded and killed them with the blast or shrapnel. Carolina threw Connie's calculations to the wind, already halfway across the floor to get Maine.

The YMIR mech whirred and ground on itself, and Connie stopped in surprise as the joints collapsed and the angry lights of the mech dimmed to black instead of growing into the blast of its last defense. Maine and Carolina finally moved as the mech lurched to the left, tipping onto its side with a deafening crash. After a moment, Sigma's dim light rose from the chest cavity, the small AI floating above the mech and looking down thoughtfully.

"I have disabled the explosive. This mech is now immobilized," Sigma announced, raising his head to the observation window. "Was my performance satisfactory?"

Connie let go of South, catching her breath and willing her heart to slow down. North and York came out of hiding, North hefting the grenade launcher suspiciously as he and York neared the mech.

"Jesus, Maine, I'll take Sigma if you don't need him..." Wash muttered, backing for safety again following Maine's ragged snarl.

"Agents York and Connecticut," the Director boomed. "See to it that our mechs are repaired and their firewalls upgraded.  Maine, report to the clinic for a physical."

Connie watched the silhouette of the Director turn from the window and fade into the interior, keeping his assessment to himself. Sigma remained over the mech, waiting patiently for an answer to his question until Maine snarled and he flashed back to his agent's side. Carolina glared up at the window, hooking her arm in Maine's, tightening her grip when Maine tried to shove her off and stumbled. 

"Thank you for your...assistance," Sigma said levelly to the gathered agents. "But you did not need to interfere."

"You would have been toast if we hadn't drawn its fire," South said bitterly.

"Agent Maine was confident he could remain unharmed until I sabotaged the guns and self-destruct mechanism, to allow for decapitation," Sigma assured.

"The order was to drop it at 4 yards," Carolina reminded curtly.

"This was a more realistic close combat scenario. We had not planned for the introduction of closely grouped unarmed targets," Sigma explained. "I was forced to adjust to the increased risk of casualties."

"Don't get cocky," Carolina scolded Maine and Sigma. "We need to know what you can handle before you put yourselves at risk. You can improvise later."

"Of course, Agent Carolina," Sigma agreed softly over Maine's irritated grunt. "Excuse us, the doctors are expecting Agent Maine."

Yanking his arm out of Carolina's grip, Maine shouldered his way through South and Connie, leaving the training room with a last rumble. Connie shuddered to herself as Maine kicked aside mech parts on his way, swinging his blade casually, as if he had done the damage himself, while Sigma hardly paid a passing glance to North and York where they were inspecting the smoking YMIR.

"Connie," York called, stretching to reach the maintenance panel on the back of the YMIR. "I could use your hand, I'm more of a software guy."

Carolina nodded her permission, looking over the wreckage and ordering South and Wash to start sorting limbs from the charred fragments. She was kidding herself if she thought Connie wasn't looking at rebuilding at least eight mechs, and looking at new replacement parts for most of them.

"Let's see if we can salvage this thing," York said, cupping his hands to give Connie a boost to the top of the mech.

Kneeling on the mechs arm, Connie flipped a screwdriver out of her omni-tool, bending upside down to unscrew and pry off the hatch, cursing at singed fingers from the sizzling metal. North stood guard suspiciously, kicking at the disembodied head.

"This is scrap," Connie preemptively warned, rubbing her fingers on her shirt. "I don't even know how to put a head back on this thing without triggering a blast."

"It can't hurt to see how he did it," York reached up to catch the panel. "I might be able to teach Delta."

Connie popped the panel off with a final yank, shielding her nose from the belch of black smoke that spilled into the air. Reaching up, York dropped the panel in surprise, blowing on his fingers, kicking the scorching metal away from North.

"Sigma fucking fried this thing," Connie swore, craning her neck into the hatch and poking at melting wires. "No wonder the arm was useless, it's like trying to send a signal through circuit soup."

"Can you fix it?" North asked.

"Sure," Connie jumped down from the shoulder, heading for the neck hole. "If I replace all of the internal hardware, this shell should run like a dream."

Connie stooped down, peering into the hole to the center of the mech. There were no signs of life, from the mech or from her scan, but Connie decided they had taken enough chances today.

"If this starts glowing, haul ass," Connie suggested, tugging her belt tight.

"Are you nuts?" North asked sharply.

"I don't think that'll happen, but buying myself some good karma points can't hurt," Connie said, worming her head and shoulders into the mech and turning on her flashlight.

Unlike the connections to the left arm and the torn wires around it, the explosive planted in the center of the mech was prestine. Sigma must have disarmed the bomb before Maine had gone for the head, Connie realized as she sorted through frayed wires.The explosive was simple, detonating if the mech detected a certain amount of damage.

"Should we be running?" North called into the cavity.

"Have a little faith, North," Connie kicked at him. "This used to be my day job."

Twisting to free her arm and flicking out her omniblade, Connie sliced through the metal frame holding the explosive in place, shielding her face as the upper supports fell to the belly of the mech. Hugging the explosive to her chest, Connie kicked her feet again, calling, "Did you already leave?!"

"Sorry," York laughed, pulling Connie out by her feet gently, helping her sit up with the explosive in her arms.

"Uh...are you supposed to do that?" North asked.

"Too late anyway," Connie pointed out, holding up the wires. "Sigma didn't bother with the 'red versus green' conundrum, he just shut off the signal that would detonate it."

"You can do that?" North had abandoned the heavy grenade launcher, pacing around Connie and York from a safe distance.

"This model has the main drive in the back," Connie tapped the inside of the mech's back. "It's why it can still order an explosion even if you take out the head."

"Especially then, it can't shoot without optics, so it just hopes to take you with it," York knelt down and inspected the bomb for himself. "But they want to be able to salvage parts if they have to, and not kill the mechanics every time the mech thinks its arm's been chopped off. So, turn off the mech, turn off the explosive."

"Or, make the bomb think the powers off," Connie hitched the explosive up, making North jump. "We can still jettison it though."

York nodded, sorting through the tangled wires. Bending them away from each other, York wiped off his blackened fingers, deciding, "I'll have Delta scan this thing, make sure it won't blow up if it hits something in space."

Connie handed the explosive to York, rubbing at the oil stains on her shirt and looking at the scattered parts around her. There might be an arm and leg she could use, maybe some circuits, but her shopping list for the Citadel had just gotten a whole lot longer, and that was without factoring in York's modifications.

"What'ya need?" Wash asked, dumping a pile of arms and legs at Connie's feet.

"Coffee. And tell Four Seven Niner to send up some service mechs to clear away the trash," Connie groaned, digging through Wash's offering.

"Can you get us a good deal on replacement parts?" Carolina asked as she added her own armful of limbs to the pile.

"I can ask around," Wash nodded. "But it'll be a pain, most people just scrap these fucking things if they're this bad."

"Anything else?" Carolina asked.

"Yeah," Connie grunted as she climbed back into the YMIR to see if the gun was salvageable "Save me some dinner."

By the time Connie had gutted what she could from the YMIR and piled it with the three limbs she could use, she was covered with scratches, had singed both of her hands, and wished Sigma had demolished all of the mechs, instead of leaving her with a stack of spare parts she couldn't use. Scrubbing her hands until the sink was stained black, Connie scraped together a sandwich from the kitchen, drowning out the tang of imitation ham with mustard. Stretching as she munched, Connie headed to her bunk, the metal rattling under her feet in the empty hallways. It had the best stealth systems available and more weapons than an army base, but the Tin Can couldn't exactly be called homey.

Licking mustard off of her thumb, Connie was glad to see she wasn't the only one still slaving away, light seeping out from under the door to the conference room. If York was trying to teach Delta Sigma's talents he could have offered to help while Delta absorbed the necessary schematics.

"Before you ruin the rest of our mechs with software they can't handle-"

Connie stopped short, staying behind the door when Maine looked up, rasping neutrally when he saw Connie standing there before leaning back in his chair to rest his head on the desk behind him, stretching the angry scar taut. Sigma stood on the desk in front of him, studying the six computer screens he had running at once.

"Hello, Agent Connecticut," Sigma greeted without looking before freezing the computer screens simultaneously and turning around. "It's late. Did we disturb you?"

"No," Connie assured, looking from one computer screen to another, catching sight of defense drone schematics, a VI brochure, and C-Sec personnel files.

"Oh," Sigma noticed her looking, shrugging bashfully. "I was expanding my knowledge of current Alliance technology and procedure. Did you know the mechs we use are two generations old?"

"Yes," Connie said irritably. "They're cheaper, but York and I tweak them to be just as good."

"And they are excellent for practice," Sigma assured calmly. "But Agent Maine wants me prepared for the next mission."

"You should take it easy," Connie blurted, looking at Maine. "No one expects you to be ready for a field test right away."

"This requires very little power," Sigma assured with his customary soft smile to accompany Maine's drowsy growl. "And there is much to learn, even at my speed. Goodnight, Agent Connecticut."

Sigma nodded politely, turning back to the flashing computer screens, the only sound in the room the rasp of Maine's breathing. Connie looked between the screens, overwhelmed by schematics, blueprints, and the glimpse of a photograph Sigma could understand in an instant. Maine's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling heavily. Connie felt uneasy watching him, wondering if she had ever seen Maine with his guard down.

"Connie," York whispered from the door. "Got a minute?"

Connie nodded, watching Sigma as the door closed, wincing at the sharp click of the latch. York hid a yawn, leading to his room where the explosive sat on his desk, surrounded by tools and guarded by Delta.

"Did you see-?"

"Sigma? Yeah, he's been at it since the docs cleared Maine," York yawned, taking a seat and pushing tools out of his way, shoving a screwdriver through Delta. "You aren't careful, D, he'll be more of a know-it-all than you are."

"Unlikely," Delta said stiffly. "We have access to identical databases and process information at comparable speeds. Differences in comprehension would be negligible."

"Good to know," York sighed, twirling his chair to face Connie. "D says it's safe. You want to try putting it in one of the other mechs?"

"Nooo, thanks," Connie shook her head, re-tying her hair. "I'll put it in storage, maybe we can use some of the parts. Delta, you're sure it's dead?"

"Yes," Delta jerked his head in a clumsy nod. "Without a charge, these materials won't detonate."

"Ok," Connie rubbed her eyes. "I'll deal with it later."

York nodded, shoving his tools into desk drawers, ordering Delta to do a final scan on the explosive to make sure it was just a paperweight now.  Connie stayed in the doorway as she waited for the results, watching Delta flicker as he worked. 

"What do you think of Sig?" Connie asked, leaning her head against the doorway.

She expected York to write Sigma off as another AI with an ego, but York stayed quiet, watching Delta and drumming his fingers though his omni-tool as he thought.

"He's still new, but he's catching up fast," York said. "And he gets results."

"Yeah," Connie admitted. "But Maine's probably the only one who can stand it.

"They do try to match us to an AI," York reminded. 

"How? Sigma wasn't even assigned to Maine until the last minute," Connie pointed out.

"I dunno, Connie, maybe they had a few choices or changed his format around," York snapped. "I'm a hacker, I got a hacking model. North's an overprotective big bro, he got a kid with a knack for defense. And Maine's a maniac who got an AI that can keep up. Maybe Sigma is meant to give him some range attacks. If Maine can handle it, that's a good thing."

"Is it always that draining?" Connie took a seat on York's bed.

York shrugged, resting his chin on his arms as he watched Delta. Delta glanced at him, jerking his head in a quick inspection before looking back to explosive without comment. Connie studied the floor when York closed his eyes, trying to decide if he had dozed off or was talking to Delta internally.

"It's better than having to run the tech ourselves, and the armor takes most of the strain. I hardly notice Delta when he's running like this. But yeah, being a human battery has its downsides," York said, sitting up and flicking his finger through Delta. "Why, you nervous?"

"Curious," Connie corrected. "You think it's worth it?"

York hummed in thought, spinning a pencil between his fingers and staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "No one wants to think about it, but peace doesn't last forever. The krogan are already popping out legions, and without the Reapers to keep them busy, they'll want to find something else to fight, and they have their pick of opponents. Turians, salarians, humans, asari...we all have grudges we'll try to settle eventually."

"With these things, we can give soldiers the ability to challenge biotics, without the years of training and risk," York continued. "We'll probably never put them in bots, but in armor, they can react faster than we can, and map out a battle before it's even started. Give Sigma enough power, he could probably take down an entire ship."

 "Do you think that's why we're doing it?" Connie had to ask, leaning back on her arms and watching York carefully. "Patriotism?"

York flashed a careless smile, avoiding the gravity of Connie's question with a forced chuckle.

"Ah, they aren't so bad," York said. "Even Shepard joined Cerberus to get results."

"That's not going to work for us," Connie warned.

York's smile slid back into the thoughtful frown, and Connie backed away from the subject, letting York hide from the threat by observing Delta again. If they could find a way to mass produce AIs, they might have a business plan. If they turned their results into the Alliance instead of the highest bidder, it might do some good. If they could convince the Alliance they weren't traitors for their work. If the public would take the same excuse. If, if, if.

"It's better than duct taping colonies back together," York muttered, leaning on his hand and speaking through his fingers.

 "Agent York," Delta interjected. "Diagnostic complete. There is no chance of explosion without the detonation device."

"Thanks, D," York sighed, getting out of his seat and pushing the explosive to the back of his desk. "Let's call it a day. "

"Are you storing me tonight?" Delta asked, looking up at York.

York paused from leading Connie to the door, ruffling his hair and looking down at Delta, who had remained standing on York's desk. Connie saw York's brows knit together for an instant before he sighed, nodding slowly, "Yeah. Bed time for good little AIs, huh?"

"Of course, Agent York," Delta promptly agreed. "But I would suggest we take this to storage while we are in that wing of the base."

York cocked his eyebrow, nodding more confidently, scooping up the dead explosive as Delta's projection shrank and disappeared into his omni-tool. Squeezing past Connie from where she held his door open for him, York waved goodnight and set off with the explosive tucked under his arm. Connie hid a smile as she saw York's palm glow and heard him mutter, "Don't tell me Theta is rubbing off on you."

"No, Agent York," Delta's assurance buzzed against the metal walls, Delta adding after a pause. "My inability to sleep impacts your ability to achieve REM sleep, and negatively effects your performance.  Storing me on a drive is...practical."

Connie shook her head at York's "Thanks, Mom", closing her door and stripping off her filthy clothes before collapsing into bed. Maybe York was right, she thought as she climbed under the covers. The AIs already had practical applications for combat, research, even communication. Maybe Connie would get an AI with a talent for mechanics to balance Sigma out. And taking part in this was more satisfying than rotting away at a smoking outpost or backwoods colony.  Closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep, Connie wondered if Maine was still sleeping against the desk while Sigma studied the six screens, tilting his head at the C-Sec profile of Garrus Vakarian.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My editing software seems to combine unnecessary autocorrect with a hatred of me, so I apologize if some typos got through. It sometimes changes things back even after I fix them, or tries to correct the species, system, and planet names.

"Shepard, are you alright?"

Shepard didn't answer Liara's question, standing on the threshold of C-Sec's processing desks and looking at the bustling crowds beyond the scanning stations. Liara followed Shepard's gaze, spotting the shining metal over the heads of the crowd, and glancing back at her friend. Shepard caught Liara's motion, pasting a smile on her face and nodding, turning to Liara and widening her grin.

"Let's just hope I'm not registered MIA again," Shepard laughed, stepping into the body scanner and handing her weapon permit to the turian officer. The machine beeped approvingly, and Shepard grinned again, accepting her weapons back from the quick inspection. "Looks like you guys will get through just fine."

"Is she trying to be funny?" Kasumi asked softly as Shepard holstered her arsenal and walked away.

"Keep an eye out," Kaidan mumbled, handing his own weapon over and flashing his Spectre identification to breeze through the check point and follow Shepard towards the communal park.

"That guy is gonna snap one of these days," Vega fretted, motioning for Liara to go before him and elbowing Cortez. "He's wound almost as tight as you are."

"Oh, man, this is _loose_ compared to the old days," Joker groaned as the scanner had a fit over his leg braces. "Look, we go through this every time I'm here, I need these to walk, so how about you take that scanner and shove..."

Liara left Joker badgering and throwing his assortment of medical badges at the turian attendant, following the path of Kaidan and Shepard to the communal park located at the entrance of the Citadel. Side stepping a keeper scuttling by, Liara suppressed a shiver. No matter what was thrown at the Citadel, the keepers always reappeared from their secret haunts, maintaining the new Citadel and making their adjustments as if nothing had happened. 

The memorial park was as neatly kept as it always was, clusters of families milling across the immaculate lawns, small children playing in the shadow of the two spiraling monuments, old soldiers sitting together. The monuments were separated into military and civilian, the species grouped together in a sign of galactic unity in the wake of the Reapers. 

"Hell of a sight," Garrus commented as the others joined Liara. 

"Yeah, the government sure likes getting on the bandwagon after the fact," Joker grumbled.

"Imagine if they had given us the funding it took to build those things to build the weapons," Grunt added. 

"It has to be remembered somehow," Liara murmured.

“Physical memorial. Eases the grieving process,” Mordin explained succinctly.

The group nodded, drifting apart and heading for their respective monuments, most of them to the military monument, Joker quietly heading for the civilian monument, leaving Grunt to stand alone, ignoring the petty remembrance for warriors who's deeds should be enough.

There were too many dead to give each person their own engraving. That would require etching them into the surface of the Citadel, Liara thought grimly. Instead, the dead were grouped by military units and/or approximate time of death and location, spanning back to the first mission after Saren, the first leg in the war against the Reapers. Liara saw Cortez press the familiar panel, selecting his husband from the holographic list and reading the cold military profile before banishing it with a shake of his head. Tali would pay her respects to her father and Kal' Reegar, Garrus to the millions lost on Palaven, Kaidan to his father and the students who hadn't made it out, Jack to the students she had lost during Cerberus' raid, and Vega would salute his unit, respecting ceremony for once. Even Mordin would pay a nod to the fallen. Liara's visit was short, paying respect to Javek's lone tile before she retreated to observing.

"Hey," Joker said softly, tapping Liara on the shoulder as he limped up, already stretching his back from his lopsided hobble.

"You're-"

"Yeah," Joker said. "Not much on them, y'know? A quiet colonist and a fifteen year old...not a lot to say."

"Joker, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-“ Liara hated to see Joker’s defiant grin sour.

"Nah, it's ok," Joker waved Liara's flustered apology off. "I said it not you, don't sweat it."

Liara nodded, sighing and looking back at the monuments. Most of the people listed hadn't been officially accounted for, but after 3 years, missing in action had only one meaning. Even the geth got a plaque, a single one, to commemorate the endless programs and their platforms that had deactivated when the Crucible fired. Shepard had been petitioning the Council to look into reactivation options, but even now, reactivating synthetics associated with Reaper upgrades was met with firm forbiddance. The Reapers were awe inspiring machines from beyond, while the geth had been fought up close for decades. Every war needed to put a face to the enemy. Liara sighed again, wondering when the war would seem distant.

"Hey," Joker said again, nudging Liara. "We all know what she did. Just because the Council's still throwing a hissy fit-"

"It's fine," Liara said steadily, smiling as best she could at Joker. "I know too. Thank you.”

Joker nodded, readjusting his cap self consciously and going back to looking at the monument as the others began to trickle back, Vega naturally heading for Cortez while Garrus and Tali paired up, Kasumi reappearing without a sound next to Joker. Kaidan joined them slowly, glancing over his shoulder when Shepard didn't appear.

"How hard do you think they're going to throw the book at us?" Joker asked, watching over Kaidan's shoulder fretfully.

"Why start going easy on us now?" Garrus grumbled, nodding when Shepard reappeared from around the monument.

"Maybe....never mind," Cortez sighed, herding the non-summoned crew away. "We'll meet you at Purgatory. We'll have shots ready."

"Keep an eye on Grunt!" Kaidan begged.

"I am _not_ a pet," Grunt growled.

"Grunt, no fights," Shepard said. 

Grunt sighed, shuffling after Cortez and complaining to Jack, "Then what's the point of going to a bar in the first place?"

"I'll watch him," Joker assured, loping after the group and scowling at their pace. "Really guys?"

"Want me to carry you?" Vega grinned, moving to loop his arm around Joker, carefully keeping his arm away from Joker’s body.

"Fuck you, Behemoth.”

"That's not an insult," Vega informed a seething Joker.

The group meandered away, breaking off to their respective haunts. Cortez called a warning as Vega headed for the loading docks, Grunt sulking after him.Mordin split off without a word to head towards the technology shops, Kasumi blinking out again, and Cortez shot a fretful look after Jack’s path towards the seedier shops before turning to the bustling market plaza.

" _That's_ a good sign." Tali sighed, turning back to Shepard with a determined cheer. "Let's get this over with."

Shepard sighed, paying one last look to the memorial wall and replacing her smile, brushing off her armor and nodding. Leading the way to the elevator, Shepard scanned her Spectre ID, brushing off her armor again as the doors closed. The ride was silent, Kaidan shooting glances at Shepard, Shepard ignoring him, and Liara pretending not to notice Garrus sneak a fortifying pinch to Tali's ass. 

"Kaidan, stop it," Shepard snapped.

"Sorry," Kaidan ducked his head, clearing his throat and trying feebly, "You look n-"

"Noooo." Shepard warned. "I'm in _armor_ , Kaidan."

"Right, sorry, never mind," Kaidan put his hands behind his back and stood at attention for the rest of the elevator ride, marching out in front of Shepard when she pointed him out.

The Presidium had been rebuilt in all its splendor, and the Council chambers had been one of the first areas designated safe for business. It was nothing new, but Liara wondered if the politicians rebuilt so quickly to forget the era that had turned a blind eye to the destruction until it had crashed through their front door.

"Did they add more steps?" Garrus asked irritably, tugging his armor fussily as they neared the top.

"Hey, the climb to godhood is steep," Shepard tucked her bangs behind her ear, polishing a spot on her armor again as they neared the asari attendant.

Liara tugged her jacket straight nervously as the asari looked at them with disinterest, frowning down at her datapad and wrinkling her brow at Shepard as if trying to recognize the crew of the Normandy.

"We have an appointment with the Council," Tali piped up helpfully.

"Yes....you're late," the asari sighed, turning on her heel and climbing the remaining steps gracefully, leaving the guests of honor to keep up if they could as she spoke into her omnitool. "They have arrived, Counselor."

There was a long pause, and the asari’s wrist lit up, joined by an irritable salarian's sneering, “Well, send them in.”

The asari balked in quiet mortification when Shepard and Garrus pushed past her without waiting her to relay the message. Kaidan nodded apologetically and Liara exchanged a brief smile with the attendant before hastening after Shepard as she crossed the Council room threshold.

“New faces, same old politics,” Kaidan sighed under his breath, looking up.

The four councilors stood on their platform a story above them, and Liara wished it didn’t impress her. Counselor Anya Takenaka stood on the far right, confident in her third year in office. So confident, Liara noted, that she was calmly looking down her nose at Shepard with the rest of the counselors.

“Commander Shepard,” the turian counselor, Jakun Karidius boomed down at them, flicking a sharp look over an unfazed Garrus. “It’s gratifying that you deigned to attend this meeting in person.”

“It was a stipulation of your ‘invitation,’” Tali mumbled, making Garrus clear his throat officially to cover a smirk.

“I would never decline an summons from the council,” Shepard nodded politely.

“A testament to how times have changed,” salarian Councilor Heipar said with a displeased grimace.

Not everything had changed, Liara saw Shepard tug at the strap of her gauntlet. After a wave of gratitude following her literal rise from the ashes, Shepard had been accepted as the savior of the universe. For a time. But the Council had to find answers for how the Reapers had gotten as far as they had before a response, and Shepard was, as she always had been, their greatest asset and the greatest threat to their control. She was a legend, and evidence that someone had seen the Reapers coming. Turians were still nursing their wounds, and the salarian government had never entirely forgiven Shepard for forcing their hand about the genophage.

“Much for the better,” Counselor Tashua hastily interjected, smoothing her skirt and looking at her fellow councilors.“Thank you for coming, Commander Shepard. And the rest of you.”

Shepard nodded back, relaxing in front of the asari councilor.Tashua was a few centuries younger than the last asari councilor, and viewed humans with less cynicism than many. Liara sighed softly as she realized Tashua was a better ally than Anya, who was still proving herself against the stigma Udina had left as his legacy.

“Yes, yes, thank you for the courtesy of fulfilling your duty as a Spectre,” Heipar grumbled, ignoring Kaidan's sigh as he was overlooked. “But we have bigger concerns than obeying the trite pleasantries. When we sent you to Nasurn-“

“When we _went_ to Nasurn,” Garrus growled under his breath,  elbowing back when Kaidan nudged him.

“-we expected you to apprehend the _fugitives_ , not theirinventory,” Heipar finished over Garrus forbiddingly.“We see that did not happen.”

“They had more enforcements than we-“

“And now they have an armory of offensive and defensive programs, including Project 2079, giving them the capabilities to _fix_ and _install_ these programs,” Jakun boomed at Shepard. “Precisely the type of catastrophe the Council has been trying to avoid.”

“But Project 20…7…the repair program only fixes _existing_ technology,” Shepard reminded with a hint of annoyance. “They would have to have it to use it, anyway."

“Your point?” Heipar spat.

“That wouldn’t be our fault?” Kaidan asked almost inaudibly before Shepard hissed at him to be silently supportive and Garrus returned the favor of an elbow.

“It _doesn’t_ have the capability to repair programs or weapons, it's just a diagnostic,” Tali continued, stepping up to address the council when Tashua pointed a calming finger to Heipar and Jakun before they interrupted. “It gives a program tasks it should be able to complete. If it fails, the project flags the error. It’s like a stress test. These mercenaries would still have to fix the problem themselves.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting, Liara had to admit, given how skillful the mercenaries seemed to be at everything else. They had a skilled hacker to fix their programs, and had gotten their hands on any weapons and technology they had wanted badly enough.

“And the rest of what they stole?” Anya Takenaka reminded. “ _Those_ are fully functional.”

“You’ll have to discuss that with the company itself. Private security isn’t a Spectre’s job,” Shepard reminded with a sigh.  

“Cold comforts,” Anya reminded, raising her chin to address Kaidan. “Spectre Alenko, you aren’t even assigned to this.”

“I finished my last assignment months ago,” Kaidan reminded calmly. “This seemed to be a Council priority, and the Normandy is the fastest transport available.”

“Hmmm,” Anya pursed her lips in disapproval, but turned away from Kaidan scornfully. “Well, then, Commander Shepard, do you have a plan of action?”

Shepard faltered, glancing at Liara for help. So far, the Normandy crew had been one step behind the mercenaries, having to try and thwart their messes as they happened. Liara was tugging at her connections, putting all of her resources on the lookout for clues. But announcing that to the council was delicate.

“They’ve already caught the attention of Aria T’loak,” Liara offered instead, knowing that everyone dealt with that Devil. “That gives us ears and eyes on the station, and will make trading in that system challenging for them. We’re reaching out to other contacts as well, anyone who might know humans with the skills they have- former clients, trading partners, weapons dealers. Hopefully, we’ll know their goals before they can put them into action.”

Anya hummed in disapproval again, joining Jakun and Heipar in a judgmental silence. Tashua smiled gratefully at Liara for an instant, folding her hands in front of her and looking down at the outfit.

“We get nothing from debating how Nasurn could be different,” Tashua agreed. “We can hope they do not have the hardware to fully utilize their acquisitions yet. The Terminus systems have always sheltered mercenaries and black markets, we have already discussed implementing pre-war security measures in the area.”

“After all, the Terminus system’s chief form of entertainment is skirmishing,” Garrus risked adding snidely. “Best to keep it contained.”

Jakun frowned unhappily, nodding shortly when Tashua looked over the council. Anya mumbled noncommittally, waving her hand at Tashua’s point in dismissive agreement. Heipar gave up, ignoring Tashua until the asari sighed softly, concluding, “This evidence will convince politicians to provide the manpower for it, I think.”

Tashua was a proud politician, Liara thought as the older asari nodded to her own argument, tucking her hands against her skirt in self satisfaction. Jakun grimaced, his anger turning into calculation as he found a way to twist a failure into a policy.

“Fewer places for them to run makes hunting for them easier,” Liara agreed as the council sat thinking. 

“And could help keep them away from settlements, if they’re in Alliance space for more than raids,” Kaidan added.

“So far, they haven’t targeted civilians,” Shepard tried to keep positive. “They don’t raid colonies, just industries.”

Anya waved her hand again, and Shepard and Kaidan snapped to silence, Garrus clicking in his throat before joining them at stiff attention. Tali muttered something, coming to stand with Liara, ignored by the councilors.

“Very well, they won’t be caught in the council room,” Anya backed down with Tashua to support her. “But we expect weekly reports.”

“Hopefully they won’t turn into monthly,” Heipar whined bitterly, turning away from his colleagues.

“We all have work to do, then,” Jakun snapped coldly. “Thank you for…appearing…Commander.”

Shepard tipped up her chin at the dismissal, and Liara finally noticed that her hands were shaking from where they were pressed firmly against her sides. Staring at the Council with sharp focus, Shepard joined Kaidan in a sharp salute, turning on her heel and marching down the steps, her footsteps quickening as she stepped out of the Council's sight. Tali and Liara shared a look, rushing away from the ceremony. Garrus threw a salute at the council, scoffing under his breath as he brought up the rear.

Shepard brushed quickly past the asari attendant, punching the button to summon the elevator and ducking into it as the doors were still opening with Kaidan at her shoulder. Garrus motioned for Liara and Tali to join her, stepping in just as Kaidan selected Purgatory. Shepard studied the floor, her glove grinding against itself as she tightened a fist. Liara searched for a way to comfort her, staying silent as Shepard ignored them, leaning into a corner of the elevator to box herself in.

“At least they might enact good policy for once,” Kaidan said to the elevator door, and Tali nodded. 

“Do you think they actually heard what you said?” Liara asked Tali softly.

“Heard? Yes,” Tali said certainly. “Listened? No.”

“We should have brought Mordin,” Garrus sighed. “He might have pull over Heipar.”

“Probably not to our advantage,” Shepard reminded dully, tapping her fist against the side of the elevator as it lurched to a stop. Kaidan pretended not to hover as Shepard straightened up, looking down at her armor and snorting. “We’ll fit right in at the club with this gear.”

“What’s wrong with armor?” Garrus asked in playful offense. “It fits every occasion _I’ve_ been part of.”

“Umm…” Kaidan cleared his throat doubtfully. “That might just be you.”

"But I'll keep that in mind," Tali said thoughtfully, brushing off her blouse innocently when Liara and Kaidan stared.

“I’m sure Vega and Jack will find a way to keep the limelight,” Liara assured Shepard while Garrus broke the tension with a proud chuckle, as they entered the club.

Purgatory had been open for business as soon as there were feet on the Citadel, even before the Presidium. It hadn’t changed much, Liara appreciated as she shoved past a drunk turian. More civilians than military, but still crowded and noisy with dark nooks in which to drink. She spotted Vega almost immediately, shouting at another soldier at the bar top with Joker. Grunt was also easy to find, towering over those around him and glowering at everyone within range. Jack stood to the side, glaring daggers through a hopeful young man when he got too close. Vega grinned as he saw them, whistling to the bartender and bellowing an order.

“Where’s Cortez?” Shepard shouted, looking around nervously. 

“Take it easy, Lola, I kept Grunt from breaking shit, and we all got here. Besides, he kept himself busy,” Vega assured, pointing over Shepard’s shoulder. “We didn’t want to throw off his game.”

Shepard looked over her shoulder, smirking. Liara looked, hearing Garrus laugh again as they finally found Cortez, safely tucked in a booth on the far side of the room. Liara had to smile when Cortez tore his attention away from the blonde man he was getting cozy with, catching sight of Shepard and moving to stand up. Shepard waved her hand down, turning to the bar and freeing Cortez to stay put. The brunette man across from the blonde laughed, swigging his beer and saying something that made the blonde man kick him under the table and the woman beside him roll her eyes over her beer.

“See? He’s fine, we’re fine, it is time to unwind,” Vega punched Shepard’s shoulder encouragingly. “Put that reputation to use and keep our tab low.”

“Ah,” Shepard nodded in recognition, snagging the beer the bartender finally delivered. “The truth comes out.”

“Like he's subtle about it,” Joker snorted, swigging his drink. “He throws it out like it's his business card.”

Shepard smiled good-naturedly, giving account information to the bartender and handing Kaidan a beer and ordering hard liquor for the crew. Garrus inspected his glass discerningly, picking up the bottle of liquor Shepard handed him and grunting in approval as he poured himself a helping. Liara quietly helped herself to a small glass of wine, sipping it carefully and watching as Tali popped a straw into her drink.

“You’re really Shepard?” the man Vega had been arguing with cut in, looking Shepard over as if disappointed. "I mean, you look like her, but..." 

“Expected someone bigger?” Shepard joked easily, hiding a sigh as others joined the man as he called attention to her. “I get that a lot.”

“Didn’t expect you in a place like this,” a woman in a security uniform observed. “There are better bars in the upper levels.”

“I hate dressing for those things, and they don’t have beer,” Shepard laughed, making the woman relax. "I'm not really a cocktail person."

“What brings you back to the Citadel?” a young man asked, leaning over the others eagerly to hear Shepard. “Last the news said, you were running patrols in the Terminus systems.”

“We still are,” Garrus took the question to give Shepard a chance to drink. “But the Council likes to keep us-“

“Informed,” Liara cut in diplomatically. 

“Yeah. They play favorites like that.”

Liara felt Vega and Joker bristle at the grave voice, the crowd turning in surprise to look at the batarian who had belched out the statement. The batarian swiveled his eyes, looking at Shepard over his tumbler of alcohol. Jack straightened up from her slouch in the corner, eyeing the batarian in as much distaste as he was looking at the crew. Shepard frowned, rolling her beer bottle against her palm.

“I wouldn't call it favoritism,” Shepard said lightly. 

“It’s standard for Spectres to report in to the Council,” Kaidan pointed out.

“Didn’t say you didn’t have a _reason_ to report,” the batarian grunted. “The Council likes to keep track of who’s doing their dirty work.”

Shepard sipped her beer shortly as the batarian stood up, dropping his empty glass on the bar top. The people who had come to see Shepard were staring at him now, the younger ones whispering to themselves.Batarians were a rare sight this days, keeping to themselves in small communities. The species would never recover from the Reaper attack, but they were clinging to life and trying to bolster their numbers. This batarian pushed his glass towards the bartender, snorting as if to spit and knocking back the fresh glass as soon as the drink was poured. 

“It must be big, if they’re using you,” the batarian accused, shoving the glass out for another serving.

“It’s just a routine patrol,” Shepard lied easily.

“Yeah?” the batarian scoffed in disbelief, and Liara was relieved to see the bartender ignore his glass. “Well, those have a way of turning to shit when you’re around, don’t they?”

"That's enough,” Kaidan advised coldly, pushed the batarian back with a firm hand on his shoulder when he tried to advance. 

“Kaidan, leave it,” Shepard ordered, waving Vega and Garrus away as they mobilized at her shoulders. “Jack, sit down.”

“Just making conversation,” the batarian growled.

“Make it somewhere else,” Tali suggested.

"This isn't the place to start a fight," Liara added. "Unless you want all of us escorted out."

“You’d be smart to get your paw off of me,” the batarian shrugged Kaidan’s hand away.

"And you'd be smart to drop this," Kaidan threatened coldly. 

"Before we have to waste time making you," Garrus informed, his sarcasm laced with fury.

“I don’t need humans pretending they give the orders now.”

“We are on the council,” Joker said smugly.

“Joker, enough,” Shepard ordered. “Look, we’re just here to drink and relax. We’ll leave you to it.”

Shepard nodded Joker back towards the alcove Jack had been waiting in, sighing when Joker stayed put beside her. Kaidan rested his hand on Shepard’s arm and gently guided her away, taking his hand off when Shepard tugged her arm away. The humans at the table with Cortez peered over their booth with curiosity, the dark haired woman nudging the brunette man out of her way as the batarian blinked at Shepard.

“Are all Spectre’s so obedient to their master’s leash?” the batarian asked. "The ones that aren't turning traitor, that is."

Shepard paused, turning back against Kaidan’s arm, and Jack swaggered over to disobey Shepard's order with Vega and Joker, standing by Grunt and sizing the batarian up. Liara saw Shepard swallow, tightening her fingers around the neck of the bottle.

“You're lucky she wasn’t,” Grunt rumbled. “Or you’d be a corpse like the rest of the galaxy.”

“Yeah,” the batarian scoffed. “Tell that to my species. At least the Council kept yours after they neutered you.”

Grunt snarled dangerously and Shepard snapped out of her revere, cutting Grunt off from a furious lunge with a raised hand. Cortez had shoved his way out of the booth, the strangers coming to join the crowd around Shepard. The blonde was looking between Cortez and Shepard, the brunette standing back to watch the show, the woman joining Jack and Vega in glaring at the batarian. Shepard studied her beer bottle for several moments, forcing a smile as she looked up.

“You’re drunk. Sleep it off,” Shepard suggested, turning away and exhaling slowly when her back was to the room.

The batarian watched Shepard head for a seat. Liara tensed as the batarian moved to follow and opened his mouth angrily, stepping back when he noticed Garrus and Grunt closing in on him and Kaidan and Vega stepping up to form a barricade. Looking at the crowd forming around him, the batarian snorted again, spraying spit as he grumbled, “Just like a human. Fleeing with your tail between your legs whenever you can.”

Tali grabbed Garrus' arm when he moved to punch, and Kaidan grabbed Jack, coughed as she elbowed him in the groin before whispering in her ear as she started to glow with her biotics. Joker ducked behind them as he headed for Shepard, driving an elbow into Vega’s back as the younger man cracked his knuckles in preparation for a round.

“Hey, Scrotum Head.”

“What do you-“

The batarian’s words cut off, his teeth clacking together as the dark haired woman’s punch sent him sprawling. Shepard looked back in surprise, the Normandy crew freezing in various levels of confusion. The woman ignored them, rolling her shoulder testily as the batarian snarled and started to stand up. The brunette man’s boot stepped onto his chest firmly, as if he didn’t notice the floor had turned to flesh.

“Beat it, buddy,” the brunette man suggested with a crooked smile when the batarian wriggled under his boot. “You weren’t the only ones who had Reapers shitting in your backyard. At least cause problems for the politicians instead of veterans in a bar, huh?”

The batarian growled, and the blonde man stepped up, shaking his head. Pushing the brunette back to stand with the woman, the blonde reached down, dragging the batarian up. Keeping a firm hand on the batarians chest when he tried to charge at the woman, the blonde shook his head wearily.

“Seriously, get lost,” the blonde man suggested levelly, shooting a look at the woman when she eagerly readied her fists. “That was just her off hand.”

“ _Yowch_ ,” Vega said approvingly, carefully leaning to steal a glance at the dark haired woman as she massaged her hand.

The blonde man wrapped his hand in the batarian's coat as he pulled him away, throwing him helpfully towards the door, and dusting off his hands when the batarian stumbled away. The brunette man watched him go with a sad mutter, cuffing the blonde man on the shoulder and observing, “You never let us have any fun.”

“Someone has to be the adult,” the blonde retorted, looking the woman over. “Did you get that our of your system, now?”

The woman shrugged, still rubbing her hand irritably as Cortez headed for Shepard as the crowd started to clear. The brunette man cocked his head, a wide grin spreading across his face as the blonde frowned in confusion when Cortez left him.

“The meeting took less time than we thought,” Cortez explained to Shepard, looking around for other threats. “Did they even see you?”

“They made time,” Shepard said.

“I meant to get a table before you got here, but…um…” Cortez cleared his throat, glancing at the group of strangers and flashing an apologetic smile.

“Steve, it’s a bar. Drunk people say things. It’s done,” Shepard assured, toasting the dark haired woman gratefully. “Next round's on me.”

The dark woman mumbled something bashfully, looking at Vega suspiciously as he kept staring. The brunette snickered, laughing when the woman flicked him off. Kaidan groaned, snapping his fingers at Vega and mouthing "Stop it," making Vega step away just as the woman curled her fingers into a fresh fist and Jack straightened up to watch. 

“You know Commander Shepard?" the blonde man asked in surprise as Cortez rejoined him, still watching Shepard closely.

“You didn’t tell them who you pilot for?” Vega asked, edging away from the new woman while still stealing peeks. “Man, what is _wrong_ with you?”

“I try _not_ to use Shepard as a pick up line,” Cortez pointed out, explaining to the new group, "I'm a member of the Normandy crew. Leading with that can attract...interesting people."

“So noble,” Garrus teased to Cortez’s shame faced expression when he caught the blonde looking with rejuvenated interest.

“Wow,” the brunette man said, his eyebrows climbing in awe over his beaming smile as he watched his friend ogle Cortez. “It is a _damn_ small galaxy.”


	11. Chapter 11

Of course the best viable male tail North had seen in the last three months was Shepard’s shuttle pilot.Well, the jury was still out on Maine’s preference, but North wouldn’t fuck that even if Maine serenaded him and provided the lube. And Four Seven Niner wasn’t bad in the sack, but she didn’t like Theta “watching them,” so that had ended as soon as North had started keeping Theta at night. This is what he got for being blinded by men in uniform, North chided himself bitterly while he watched York brush off his charm and Connie cringe at the attention Vega the jarhead was giving her.

“Never thought I’d get to talk to _the_ Commander Shepard face-to-face,” York had continued as the Normandy crew gathered around the strangers who had impulsively come to their defense. Thanks, Connie.

“Drop the ‘the’ and the ‘Commander,’ and I’ll buy the next two rounds,” Shepard begged, taking the hand York extended and shaking it firmly. “Didn’t catch your names over everything. Steve, a little help?”

Of course he had dimples, North groaned internally when Steve Cortez hurried over, still looking amicably apologetic for the chaos he hadn’t caused. Something told North that a quick grope in the bathroom was now a distant possibility.

“Hey, we aren’t all given placards on the news,” York laughed, his eyes glinting coldly. “The name’s Elliot Yankovski, the ‘hit first, talk later’ babe is Con-Constantine Tissot, and the blonde bombshell is-“

“Nathanial Bonwell,” North rattled off the last name Delta had attached to his fake ID and citizen file. “Nate, just Nate.”

“Yankovski?” Garrus asked, and North felt York’s contempt swell under his care free smile when the turian looked him over. “E. Yankovski?”

“If you’re looking at a service file, sure,” York chuckled, the chill hidden by the thump of the music.

“I’ve seen your file,” Garrus confirmed. “The parts that weren’t redacted, anyway.”

“You were part of the intel unit in London,” Shepard added, looking impressed when Garrus nodded confirmation. “You were in the city before Anderson even got there.”

It was a compliment, and York looked smug for an instant before the flat smirk reappeared when he looked at Garrus. North cleared his throat, taking a sip of his drink before he had to smile at anyone on the Normandy crew but Steve. Of course they had been part of the London unit. It was how they had met, York barking orders at ragged soldiers and trying to cozy up to North after Carolina introduced them, while Connie worked on South and Wash to get better equipment. It was the first time North had saved York’s ass, hunkered behind a wall as a Reaper tore through a convoy across the street. Of course they had been there. Saving Earth was York’s job, and it had been good networking for North and South. At least, that was the excuse. No need to look sentimental during the potential end of the world.

“Yeah,we were in the neighborhood,” York said, nodding to Connie and North to include them. “Not close enough to see the final charge first hand, but, close enough to see the…portal thing.”

The group winced at York’s casual statement, and Connie shot a questioning look at North as they all sat down in the booth. North felt his drink sour as he realized York was warming up, already starting to probe for weak points and turn them into wells of information. Connie frowned at the table top, cracking the scraped knuckles on her hand and pressing them to the cool glass of the beer Vega gallantly presented to her when Kaidan set the tray down.

“Yeah, the big fuckin’ beacon in the middle of rubble? That was hard to miss, and I was running barriers at the edge of the fight,” Jack snorted, snatching the next beer from Vega and downing half of it in two gulps .

“'Hard to miss?' You could feel it through the buildings,” Tali shuddered. 

“Fuck that. You could _see_ it through the buildings,” Connie agreed, stoppering her mouth with a beer bottle when York and North glared at her for agreeing so easily.

“Made flying a bitch,” Jeff Moreau added, rubbing one of his legs and leaning into the back of the booth with a groan. 

North couldn’t keep from feeling a little impressed as he looked at the heavy braces on the infamous pilot’s lower half. No one would ever tell Four Seven Niner that the pilots of the Normandy gave her a run for her money, but Jeff had a reputation, and Steve somehow managed to coax a Kodiak into smooth flying. North had to keep from chuckling when he saw Connie looking at the sizable muscles on Jeff Moreau’s arms and shoulders, then frowned at the contrast with the braces on his frail legs. Jeff caught her looking, tugging his leg straight under the table defensively.

“Yeah, who’d have thought that shuttles weren’t meant to fly that close to Reaper tech?” Steve tactfully diverted the conversation.

“Excuses, Esteban?” Vega asked, shouldering the pilot affectionately and jostling him into North. “It’s ok, we all have an off day now and then. Yours just totaled a shuttle.”

“Vega,” Kaidan scolded, the only one at the table still sitting up straight and looking around Shepard for trouble. Shepard was still quiet, nursing her drink in the middle of the booth. So this was Shepard out of her element, North observed. He had expected something more impressive and awe inspiring. Sitting in the center of her crew in the shadows to escape the commotion, Shepard was mundane, almost morbid. North didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. 

“You crashed?” Connie asked, staring at Steve as if wondering how he had gotten here. “In London? Reaper UK London?”

“Eh…emergency landing,” Steve shrugged nonchalantly.

“The shuttle burst into flame,” Tali reminded, sipping enthusiastically on her drink. 

“Yeah, that’s why I landed, ” Steve pointed out, looking at North sideways to gauge his reaction.

“Did you fly again?” Connie asked in genuine interest next to York’s attentive prodding.

“What else was I going to do? I wasn’t about to sit back and let these guys do all the work,” Steve said, elbowing Vega. 

“Same bird?” North had to ask.

“Um…no, _fire_ kind of ruined the transmission on that one,” Steve laughed. “But they set me up with another Kodiak that would have been flown by a civilian pilot.”

“You’re lucky,” Connie said grimly. “We were holding those things together with spit and gum in those last hours.”

“You were a mechanic?” Tali asked, leaning over to hear Connie eagerly, sitting back when Connie jumped at her question.“Or were you only reassigned for emergency repairs?”

“Did it for three years before the war started,” Connie said defensively. “We didn’t ‘fill in’ people to work on shuttles, we needed them in the air, not crushing our own guys if they fell out of the sky because someone who's only worked on cars got cocky.”

“We thought you were intelligence,” Liara said apologetically, and North clicked his teeth at her innocent polite tone. “It sounded as if you were all in the same unit.”

“Oh,” Connie said, scowling when Garrus nodded and smiled at her. “Yeah, intelligence units need mechanics too, just not so much once the explosions start.”

“So, you’re a mechanic too?” Steve pointed at North.

York gritted his teeth in a pained grimace when North glared at him. Connie starting a fight had been enough poor decisions for one day, they should have slipped away during the aftermath instead of getting themselves involved. Now, the Normandy crew was interested, wanting to swap war stories and battle scars instead of bullets and flesh wounds, and York was eating it up. North just wanted to get out of here before things got worse.

“Arms specialist and, um, requisitions officer, but the same team,” North said, picking an easy lie he didn’t have to put effort into. “Someone has to make sure we can actually get the guns we need and that they shoot straight.”

“Yeah, that’s what Esteban does when he’s not playing chauffeur,” Vega said enthusiastically. "For such a nice guy, he runs a kick ass armory."

“Like I said, he's subtle about it,” Jeff snorted at Shepard, holding his hands out innocently when Vega grumbled. Life was just cruel, North thought, consoling himself with a sip of beer. 

“Bet polishing the guns was fun,” Grunt noted with a thunderous belch, tossing aside a drained tumbler of beer and looking around the table for more. 

“There was no good station in London,” Shepard cut in just as North was debating whether he could at least get away with a punch for that. 

North stopped in surprise when Grunt immediately sat back, drinking in sullen silence as Shepard drained her beer and set it down firmly.  York noticed, and North saw his eyebrows jump in interest when Kaidan rested a hand on her shoulder while Jeff stealthily pushed his half-full beer into her hands. North cleared his throat, smiling shortly at Steve when the pilot bumped knees with him apologetically. Shepard drank from Joker’s beer automatically, coughing when she saw the newcomers staring at her, “Sorry, we all know what happened there.”

“Hey, if anyone called it, you earned the right,” York bounced his drink in a quick toast.

The mood of the table plummeted, and even North had to wince. Shepard’s lips pressed together, and she continued spinning her empty bottle over the table without responding to the backhanded compliment. Connie ducked her head, nursing her drink and glaring at York furiously as the table fell quiet.

“Ok, um, that came out wrong…next rounds on me so I can wash down my foot,” York wiped off his mouth. 

“It’s fine,” Shepard said shortly, sighing when York grimaced apologetically. “It’s hard not to dwell on war stories.”

“Let’s just leave them outside the bar,” Kaidan suggested, a protective arm around Shepard’s back.

“Or until we’ve had a _lot_ more to drink,” Garrus said enthusiastically as he peered into his empty glass and shook it mournfully.

“Yeah, I get that, good plan,” North felt further suspicion creep in as York caved easily, bending over backwards to apologize and feigning a sympathetic sip from an empty bottle. “So….Gotta ask, not to agree with the batarian we just decked, but is it true they still have you stuck on patrol? That’s usually a rookie or two steps from retirement kind of job, not an elite’s.”

North watched closely as York looked around the table with innocent interest, even leaning over to hear more closely when Grunt growled something in his throat before Liara shook her head at him. York frowned apologetically, tapping his beer on the table and hastening to add, “I heard shit was going down in that area, I didn’t think it was serious enough for two Spectres.”

"Neither does the Council," Kaidan mumbled unhappily.

“It’s almost comforting to see things get back to normal out there,” Steve joked weakly over Shepard pinching Kaidan's side. 

“But we can’t let mercenaries get too comfortable,” Garrus growled forbiddingly into his still empty glass.

“Mercenaries?” York sprang on the invitation for more questions. "Really?"

“Huh, and I thought you were an ‘intelligent’ guy,” Jack sneered at York's overeager question, earning a chuckle from Grunt. “There’s always mercenary and smuggling work, especially when looting's so easy.”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked, I did some work in the Terminus systems, preemptive intel, but I heard most of them were still getting set up again,” York said earnestly.“What gangs the one making trouble? Blood Pack? Oh, is Aria trying to make a power play?”

The Normandy crew looked around themselves, weighing York’s reputation. Liara looked to Shepard, and then to York, interest changing her normally neutral expression. Shepard drummed her fingers on her glass, looking around at her friends. Steve glanced sideways at North, and North shrugged, trying to fake innocence and ignore Connie’s inquisitive kick under the table. 

“It’s not a crew I’ve seen before,” Garrus volunteeredvaguely, continuing when no one looked uneasy. “All human, for one, that’s rare, they usually like krogans for muscle or salarians for sabotage. Helps them blend in.”

“Huh, I heard some-“ York shifted in his seat, getting comfortable for an interrogation.

“Ok, I need beer before more shop talk, round 2, Elliot’s buying,” North decided, grabbing York’s elbow and dragging him out of the booth and too the bar top. York smacked the bar to to get the barkeeps attention, radiating annoyance at North's bad timing. North leaned over as York ignored him, demanding, “Tell me you didn’t plan this.”

York avoided North’s accusation, flipping a tray out from under the bar and stacking bottles on it as the bartender set them down for him. North watched York in disbelief, leaning on the bar top and taking the next bottle away from York’s hand.

“York, you son of a bitch,” North groaned.

“Oh come on, how would I-“ York snorted, shouting at the bustling barkeep and pointing to whisky and a shot glass.

“Do not treat me like Wash, I know your set ups,” North snatched the bottle away when York reached for it. “Delta had to fake our authorizations so we could dock here, did you poke around while you were at it to see dock clearances for a ship that size? Since it’s the only damn ship that size.”

York took a shot, sliding the glass back to the bartender and drumming his fingers as North stared at him. North should have known something was up when York had delayed the supply run for two extra days at the last minute, and should have dragged York to the shuttle after his sudden energetic skip after their trip to the memorial park. Now York was enjoying the game.

“Does Carolina know…wait, stupid question,” North cut York off mid-excuse. “Does Connie know?”

“You think I'd tell Connie and not you?” York asked jovially. "No, I planned on eavesdropping and maybe chatting them up as a fanboy, not having dinner with them, but then, Connie gave us such a great-"

“You think that makes it better?” North asked. “Then what, your original plan was to pimp me out to the pilot for an easy in?”

“Like you’ve never grabbed drinks with someone who’s had a gun in your face before,” York reminded, pointing at the whisky he wanted again and flashing the number of shots on his fingers when the bartender breezed by. 

“Not when they might try it again, no,” North retorted. "And not  _accidentally_."

“Still mad they got the drop on you?” York asked, accepting the tray of shots and looking knowingly at North.

“A little, yeah,” North admitted unhappily. “But that’s not the point.”

“Oh, there’s a point?” York asked haughtily.

York filled the tray with bottles, clanking them together sharply and looking at North sideways with a quirked eyebrow. North licked his lips, reminding himself that for all York’s talents and all their teamwork, he and York had opposite strategies. York was used to getting cozy with his sources and taking them apart from the inside; North had never liked making things personal and risking getting drawn in too far to make a quick escape. 

“I’m an arms dealer and small heists guy for a reason,” North reminded. “This is not what I do.”

“Not like you to waste a chance for information,” York pointed out sagely as he readjusted the bottles. “All you have to do is make small talk, maybe get it in as a bonus, it’s like vacation."

“No, _you_ and Reggie handle the information, that’s your schtick,” North corrected, ignoring York’s dismissive snort. “South, Connie, and I keep the weapons firing.”

York handed North Steve’s glass of whisky, looking at North knowingly in a way that made North want to punch him. North could have had his pick of careers in the criminal underworld, and he had tried most of them: arms dealer, heists, body guard for hire, short and long cons. Never murder for hire, but he’d come close. He had quit being a con man quickly, and settled in as a weapons trader. People made things complicated and delicate, and made a clean escape harder. Some people could shut that off, like Maine or Wyoming, or, North worried, South. North had made peace with his line of work years ago- you did what you had to do to eat when you lived outside the bounty of the Alliance settlements. That didn’t include having dinner with the people trying to bring you to justice and you’d recently tried to blow up.

“Is this because Stevie is cute?” York teased with a hint of bite. “Because we can find someone else if you are that hard up for the D. Ugh, damn it, Delta's ruined that too.”

“No, this is not because the pilot is cute,” North sounded convincing, he thought. “It’s because you’re making this personal so that you can stroke your ego.”

“Personal? They shot Maine in the throat,” York reminded.

“Yeah, I was there, they also tazed Wash, I remember that part,” North said, thinking of the painful impact as the chunks of wall shattered Theta's shield over them. “But that doesn’t mean we have to be the idiots that go looking for a fight in the middle of a bar two floors away from C-Sec Headquarters.”

“You’re too used to having a defensive program in your head,” York said wisely, looking at the Normandy crew critically and then turning back to North. “Sometimes you have to go on the offensive.”

“Only if the jackass is between me and the loot or the exit,” North shot back, watching the people around him. “Not kicking back at a bar in the middle of Council space while we have a load of arms in the back of our unauthorized ship.”

“I still have my gun licenses!” York said indignantly.

“Oh, ok, then everything should be fine!” North snorted, pointing at himself. “You could have at least _told me_ so Connie and I weren’t sitting ducks.”

“Look, I wanted to see why the Normandy was hauling it all the way back here," York snapped defensively, before trying to snicker. "I didn’t plan for you to hit on Shepard’s gay best friend-“

“You are an archaic **_ass_** ,” North snapped sharply as York tested his patience.

York growled at North's persistence, turning away from the bar and glaring at North directly. North waited quietly, deciding to let York talk himself out of this one without North prompting him. York glanced back at the table, sucking his teeth and tapping his fist on the bar unhappily. 

"Was this Carolina's idea?" North handed York an excuse despite his annoyance. Carolina had a way of talking York into things that were against York's better common sense. 

"No, it wasn't Carolina's idea," York grumbled, scratching his hand through his hair testily.

"Last time, you and Connie were on the 'avoid these guys like the plague' comm-"

“Think of it this way, ok," York interrupted, grinding his teeth. "The more we know, the more we can plan _not_ to have the Almighty Shepard crashing our party. We stay ahead, everyone saves ammo, and we don't have to fight them head on. Hell, we could not fight them at all if we're smarter.”

York jerked his chin in triumph for his logic and shoved another tray at North to help carry the drinks. Connie was squirming, shooting angry pleading glances at the two of them as Vega’s mouth moved near her ear and Liara asked her a soft question. York looked to see if his argument was working. North avoided him this time, ignoring York’s triumphant smirk as North was forced to admit the idea had some teeth. It would be nice to know if Shepard had a lead, and avoid the chance for another stay in the med bay.

“Yeah, I knew they were here and I wanted a way in, but the pilot wasn't part of my plan, I didn’t know you’d cock block yourself by _unintentionally_ picking the one guy in the place that we didn’t know was attached to Shepard,” York tapped his fist on the bar again, finally looking genuinely guilty. “So, sorry, I know our dating pool is pathetic. But…now that you're both here, and you were going to lay on the charm anyway…”

“And you were an idiot with a big mouth,” North added spitefully as York squirmed remorsefully.

“And I was an idiot, sure,” York admitted. 

York looked so hopeful, pulling North into one of his schemes. North growled unhappily, taking a shot and reaching over the bar to get to the whisky and refill it without the barkeep's permission. It wasn't as if North had a choice now.

“You fucking _suck_ as a wingman,” North informed, taking his tray and going back to the table before he had to see York look pleased with himself. 

Steve shifted over in the seat, courteously giving North room and helping pass out the drinks while North got comfortable. Ok, maybe a small part was because the pilot was cute, North admitted. Cute, and too nice for his own good. Cute, too nice for his own good, and single from the war. Cute, too nice for his own good, a war widower, and Shepard’s loyal lackey. Fuck.

“So,” North handed Steve his glass of whisky personally, making sure Steve’s hand was on the glass and their fingers overlapped before he let go. “All human mercenary gang? The Blood Pack probably likes a new easy target.”

“I _wish_ the Blood Pack would kick them out. We can deal with the Blood Pack,” Steve said unhappily, sipping his drink quickly.

“Yeah, they just roll over and keep shooting,” Jeff said bitterly.

“Pains in the ass?” North asked Steve sympathetically, pushing a beer at Connie when she scowled.

"You could say that," Steve nodded, adding more softly, "They dented my shuttle..."

"That was  _after_  they blew out the wall of a building," Kaidan reminded, stabbing North's conscience when he continued grimly, "And killed most of the people in it."

At least York still looked genuinely uncomfortable with Kaidan's cold statement, and Connie drained her drink in a long gulp with a "Damn." North hid behind a long gulp of his beer, thinking of the trembling salarians staring up at him, and the head bursting from South's bullet. This was why he didn't like reminiscing about his jobs.

“Yeah, pains in the ass works,” Vega agreed with North after a moment of silence, turning to Connie. “Hey, you’re a tech whiz. Ever heard of a non-biotic Charge?”

Connie blinked, hesitating for an instant and stalling with a slow sip as she thought under Vega's gaze. Brushing her hair from behind her ear, Connie studied the table coyly and sighed softly. North had to try not to laugh when he saw her glare at York through her bangs for this.

“I’m more into _big_ tech. Ships, shuttles, a robot or two in a pinch,” Connie admitted to Vega with a smile North almost bought and visibly distracted Vega. “And I’ve never heard of that, sorry. Even with cybernetics, too much stress like that would-“

“Damage the tissue,” Shepard nodded, waving away Connie’s grimace of realization. “Our doctor ruled that out and gave me a lecture, it saved some time. Sort of." 

“Might make sense, they are hoarding tech,” Tali joined the conversation eagerly. "But cybernetics are hard to come by."

“And they’ve got some bitchin’ stuff already,” Jack sighed enviously, stretching out in her seat. “What I could do with shields like that. Umph."

North sat back, letting York take advantage of the good graces North and Connie had bought to sit in the middle and soak in the gossip before the questions turned on him. Good, the Normandy crew had more questions than answers and were puzzling over the armor upgrades. No one thought of AI, and they sounded disheartened, just the way York wanted. It was almost complimentary, how much they hated the Freelancers. North let Connie pick up his slack, reopening the flow of information with a bat of her eyes at Vega any time Shepard and her crew threatened to stop talking. North sipped his drink, content to murmur in feigned sympathy over the crew’s woes and mime ignorance in silence.

“Whatever they have, we’ll get ‘em,” Garrus insisted as the stories petered out without a solution. “It’s hard to hide when everyone in the galaxy owes you a favor.”

“Gotta be,” York nodded wisely, covering his mouth with his fist and burping contentedly over a smirk. “Oof, I should leave while I can still stand. I’d give you my files if I had anything on these guys, but I've never heard of 'em. Good luck.”

York patted Shepard on the shoulder encouragingly and stepped to the side to let Vega clear the way for Connie while North got up from his seat and went to settle the bar tab that York had conveniently forgotten about. North bristled internally as he felt Steve follow him, leaning on his elbows beside North at the bar.

“Ok, that…did not go as planned,” Steve admitted, waving the bartender on to a group waiting to be served.

“You weren’t impressed by how I threw that batarian out?” North asked.

“No, that was a good start,” Steve admitted. “But, four’s a nice group, my entire crew is-”

“A mob,” North offered, leaving a generous tip.

“Like meeting my entire overprotective judgmental family at once,” Steve corrected with a chuckle.

“I’ve had worse,” North laughed at the joke Steve wasn’t aware of. “Not saying it was a _conventional_ pick up method, but, I've probably had worse.”

“Well, if you’re willing to look past the worst icebreaker in history,” Steve jotted something down on a bar napkin. “Let me know, and I won't bring them next time.”

Steve handed North the napkin, leaving North to ponder his extranet address as he rejoined his crew at the booth and North followed York and Connie out of the bar. North pondered the napkin bitterly as Connie berated York for being an idiot. North sighed when York whisked the napkin out of is hand and beamed at it.

“You _still_ got him?” Connie asked as she looked at the napkin over York’s shoulder. “Fuck me, the world isn’t fair.”

“You are the best wingman,” York praised, patting North on the back proudly and snapping the napkin. “I can work with this.”

“York, let it go,” North took the napkin back and stuffed it in his pocket. “You said this was just an eavesdropping mission to try and avoid them, not a long in depth thing.”

“Yeah,” York agreed. “But think of how much easier that will be if we have can have Theta or Delta track their messages? We’ll be halfway across the galaxy as soon as they turn in our direction.”

North sighed, rolling his eyes when Connie nodded with York over the new plan. Pulling the napkin out of his pocket, North admitted defeat. Just because Steve Cortez was cute and only provided transport didn’t mean that the Normandy crew still wasn’t a problem that North would rather avoid. Folding the napkin neatly, North tucked it back into his pocket, informing an indignant York, “Fine. _I’ll_ set something up. Like hell I'm letting you into my mail.”

York grinned, practically skipping back to the ship. Connie shook her head, following with North more quietly. This was just what North hadn’t wanted to happen. York was going to stretch this in as far as he could, which could backfire if anyone on the Normandy got suspicious and had the same idea. North was starting to miss the days when he had actually been a free agent, instead of a hired errand boy with a permanent home base and higher ups on his back. The ride home saw York in a proud doze, and North and Connie sulking in opposite corners of the shuttle. All the squabbling for shore leave, and North had more of a head ache for going.

Leaving York to gleefully report their progress to Carolina and Connie to take her frustration at Vega out on Wash on the training floor, North waited to supervise the unloading of the arms from the back of the ship. Theta had already been in storage for half the day, he’d be bouncing with energy and new information he had learned while waiting for North. Theta didn’t like storage, and North didn’t like leaving him in there when he got nervous over night, but storage gave them both a chance to recharge in solitude. Still, North felt relieved when the unpacking was over and he could report to the clinic.

Waiting for Theta to transfer back into his implant and omnitool drive, North spun in the exam chair. Delta was already out of storage, North noticed with some surprise, the drive York usually kept him in powered down to conserve energy. North suppressed a wince as he felt the implant kick from the fresh signal, and barely had time to relax before Theta's nervous energy burst into his mind.

"You were gone for  _hours_ ," Theta informed, drifting around North as he got up and headed for his bunk. 

"The Citadel is big," North informed, feeding Theta images of the parks and pathways of the shining city. "It takes an hour to get in the doors."

Theta sifted through the new information, lingering on the trees and grass, puzzling over a lumbering elcor. Theta knew what they were, he could store the entire history of the Citadel and all of the species in a fraction of his memory, but he had only seen most things through North's mind. 

"There are so many aliens," Theta marveled. "More aliens than people...is it an alien colony?"

"Nah," North said, locking his door and stretching out in his bunk as Theta examined the milling crowds around North. "Humans are just one species, there are a lot of aliens."

Theta figured that out mathematically, abandoning the equation when North gave Theta a peek of  _Purgatory_. Not too much, North and York had carefully practiced keeping sections of their minds to themselves, but enough that Theta identified the music playing and the flashing lights around people dancing. North laughed to himself as Theta stayed on the dance floor, studying the dancers, getting progressively nervous.At the last second, North steered his thoughts away from the first sight of Steve at the edge of the dance floor. four Seven Niner might be fatalistic, but she had a point about Theta's potential intrusion on North's sex life. 

It's more fun than it looks," North assured when Theta cringed at the sight of a woman thrashing in time with the music.

"Did you get into a fight without us?" Theta asked nervously. "Her bi-biotics are scary."

North quickly shut off the memory as he recognized Jack too late, blending into the throng of similarly dressed dancers and shifting shadows. North hadn't paid her much attention in passing, but Theta had recognized the tattoos around her neck instantly.

"No, we didn't get into a fight today," North assured, going back to the brightly lit marketplaces as he quickly tucked the incriminating napkin into his desk drawer. "A lot of people go to the Citadel."

"Did they see you?" Theta asked softly, pulling the memory back out and watching Jack twist with the music, waiting for her to attack with each motion. 

Theta knew the answer before North could try to lie, a trick that still eluded him and York. Once the AI started looking for specific information, they had equal access to the answers York or North had. Feeling Theta puzzle over the feel of North in a booth surrounded by enemies was physically uncomfortable, and North cleared his throat, easing the pressure in his head by diverting Theta's attention.

"But we don't like them," Theta reminded when he watched all that he could find. "You're angry?"

North nodded, but Theta had jumped off again, replaying York and North's fight at the bar. Theta watched York's angry gestures and shrank away from the sound of North's harsh snap, increasingly upset by the two men's arguing.

"Then why are you mad at Agent York?" Theta asked, almost accusingly, but raw confusion hurting North's head.  "He's with us."

North groaned without thinking, and Theta shrank to the back of his head, giving him control of his thoughts back. North rubbed the burning implant under his neck, and Theta appeared in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Theta said mournfully. "I don't understand."

North rubbed his eyes, sitting up and leaning on his knees. Theta was learning fast, and liked people better than Delta, but his shortcoming came in his nervous inquisitive personality. Delta didn't seem to bother with uncertainty, following and guiding York's logic to get the job done. He would understand this as a tactical maneuver. Theta was confused by North's friendly tone towards the Normandy crew, and distressed by his short temper with York.

"You've seen me and York argue," North reminded helpfully.

"But you weren't  _angry_ ," Theta said, replaying North and York's sarcastic spats and friendly jibes with a new discomfort. 

"Yeah, well...sometimes even York does things that I don't like," North informed the small hologram standing on his bedside table. "I didn't plan on running into them today, that was his idea."

"Why?" Theta asked, answering his own question with a quick scan of North and York's bickering. "That's a good idea to beat them."

"It is," North confirmed, lying back down and looking down as Theta beamed to stand on his chest, his feet projecting over North's shirt as he breathed. "But it's dangerous, too. Usually, the more you go looking for a competition, the more you get one."

"But we  _want_ to beat them," Theta said. "That's good."

"We want to get the job done," North reminded. "That means getting the stuff the Director wants, and dealing with security if we have to. Crowd control, right? _Wanting_ to fight is a little different. We don't do it if we don't have to."

Theta floated silently, studying North's memories, flickering more softly when it was only Steve in the booth. Steve was confusing, but new and not as threatening. Without the gunfire surrounding them, Theta had a chance to analyze the Normandy crew slowly, pairing faces with the information Delta had found. Theta shied away from the memory of Connie's punch knocking the batarian to the ground, but watched York scold him before North intervened, analyzing the Normandy crew as they offered support instead of a fight this time. He was still confused, flicking from image to image uncertainly, but he had stopped prying into North's head frantically.

"This wasn't a job?" Theta asked slowly, lingering on North and York's ease as they talked about the war over drinks.

"Nope, York just brought work....no, it wasn't a job," North simplified for now. "Just an accident."

Theta thought for a moment longer before flashing out, quietly sitting in North's head in the middle of the memories of the day, mixing his fretting over the Normandy crew with observing the peaceful crowds in the memorial park.

"Ok," Theta decided, going back to the calm pictures and new market place with innocent interest, hastily adding fretfully, "As long as it's ok."

"Yeah, things are ok," North yawned, drifting into a light doze as Theta enjoyed himself, letting the AI's interest dominate his mind without a fight this time to drown out the stress of the day. "It's not  _great_ , but it's ok."


	12. Chapter 12

“Come on…come on you little…ow!” Tali yelped as the drone shocked her, whirring unhappily before clanging to the floor. “Ugh, stupid _stupid_ **_stupid_ ** thing!!”

Tali swung her foot at the air above the drone in exasperation, sneaking a glare at Mordin as he hummed happily over his work. She would much rather have her own work station, but the Normandy was only so large, and she and Mordin had to share the tools in the lab.

“Sounds like I came at just the right time,” Garrus chuckled as he sauntered into the room, ignoring Mordin’s surprised expression at a non-scientist breaking into his domain. “Did you two work it out, or am I going to have to get my hands dirty over your honor?”

Tali scoffed affectionately as Garrus scowled at the drone in scolding before straightening up and taking Tali’s hand. Tali had always imagined what love would be like- something like the movies, grand and picturesque, with swelling music and a happy ending where she and a prince settled down in a quiet house on her home world. That wasn’t Garrus Vakarian, and Tali had to blush as she, once again, realized how naive she had been when she’d left the fleet. Some day, Garrus promised, they would settle down on Rannoch, and maybe even try having children, if the geth enhancements improved the quarians' immune systems fast enough.It was a promise Tali treasured, but in the mean time, she was content on the Normandy, fighting alongside her friends, safely snuggled up with Garrus in the cramped engine room at night.

“Protect _my_ honor? That's so old fashioned, Vakarian,” Tali teased, knowing Garrus could read her mirth through her mask. 

“Ah, who am I kidding, I should be asking you to do that,” Garrus admitted as he pulled Tali over, nuzzling against her face mask in the improvised kiss they used in the open. “I make a hell of a distraction though, if you need a break.”

“No, it’s alright,” Tali assured, tapping noses with Garrus and turning back to the drone unhappily. “I’m just trying to fix it, that ‘York’ _bosh’tet_ did something to it on Nasurn, it won’t stay up.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll convince it to behave,” Garrus teased, keeping his hand in Tali’s despite Mordin’s unhappily cleared throat. “You have a way of doing that.”

“Not everyone is as agreeable as you,” Tali informed lovingly.

“‘Agreeable?’” Garrus laughed, tucking Tali safely against his side. “Not a word most people would use for me.”

“Break might be beneficial, Tali. Somewhere else, perhaps,” Mordin interjected in from his desk. “Turian pheromones unpleasant.”

“Thank you, Mordin,” Garrus nodded to the quietly displeased salarian.

“No offense intended of course,” Mordin added when he mistook Garrus’ amusement for annoyance. “Species difference, unappealing to salarians. Nothing personal. Krogan and drell secretions much worse. Asari and human…surprisingly tolerable.”

“I should keep working,” Tali said softly to Garrus under Mordin talking to himself. “I need to get somewhere useful, instead of just swearing.”

“I promised to show Joker how to put together a shotgun, anyhow,” Garrus took the dismissal lightly. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to get a lecture twice in one day.”

Garrus winked at Tali as he left, leaving her standing over the drone while Mordin continued to compare species to himself.Tali stifled a giggle, deciding to take a shorter break and walking to look at Mordin’s research. Mordin jumped in surprise as he came out of his scholarly cloud to Tali invading his workspace, but stepped sideways to let her look at his work.

“You’ve made amazing progress on the armor,” Tali marveled, pressing the button that sent a current through the gauntlet. The silver material turned a dark blue that bled into a deep red as Tali changed the current, then green.

“Simple process,” Mordin nodded smugly, gently shooing Tali away from the controls and tapping his lips. 

“So,” Tali asked with good natured teasing for Mordin’s brisk manner. “Can you smell my pheromones?”

“No. Enviro-suit contains them excellently,” Mordin praised brightly, smiling indulgently at Tali. “Enjoy working with quarians. Impeccably sterile.”

“Thank you,” Tali tried to take it as a compliment, going back to work on her drone before Mordin said something else insensitive so kindly. “And meanwhile, my drone is still _useless_.”

Mordin followed her back to the drone, bending over the technology curiously and turning the light frame over in his hands. Tali waited patiently for him to finish, secretly hoping that Mordin might catch something she missed, even at the price of her dignity. The drone’s navigation was shot, and the mass effect fields barely appeared, even after Tali had repaired the infrastructure.

“Anything?” Tali asked over Mordin’s shoulder, taking the drone from him and inspecting her work.

“Repairs seem successful. Possible malfunction in the central processing system,” Mordin said thoughtfully, without his usual critical tone. “Basic drone, potentially unsalvageable. Good for scrap, though.”

“It’s almost done, it just needs some tweaking,” Tali said defensively, knowing that Mordin was right. Drones were cheap and disposable. But with the Council cracking down and tightening the purse strings, Tali had been determined to repair her technology herself.

“Good luck,” Mordin said shortly to Tali’s change in tone, returning to his desk and continuing his work with a note of displeasure. 

Tali tugged her cowl straight, taking out her tools and checking the wiring again, wondering if she was missing the smallest fray that would garble the commands. Drones were pathetically simple, without easy readings until they worked or failed in a combat situation. And if it failed, Tali really would be left with a pile of scrap. Damn mercenaries.

Fiddling with her tools, Tali went over to her computer and read through drone manuals, checking the model and make before she missed something obvious. This was silly anyway, she knew how to fix drones, quarian children could build a drone blindfolded. Leaning on her hand, Tali scrolled through the data they had on the mysterious mercenaries to distract herself. They had been quiet for almost a week, and Tali didn’t like the feeling that they were getting comfortable. Shepard was back to herself, thankfully, the friendly chat with Elliot bolstering her confidence and Nate’s interest Cortez giving the crew some good news to share, but it was a distraction from the real problem.

Tali rolled her eyes at the program that had started this mess, officially named Project 2079, an over-glorified prototype if Tali ever saw one. It had been in development for more than two years, according the project notes, and it still didn’t have the capability to do more than note potential errors. It was marginally faster than manual tests, but if it was really a breakthrough, it would have been released by now.

“Do you have testing results for the diagnostic program?” Tali asked Mordin, searching for them in her files again. “All I have is what it’s _supposed_ to do.”

“Specific tests classified,” Mordin mumbled over his work.

“Shepard can’t request them?” Tali asked. “We already have the program, why conceal the results?”

“Private company, competition steep, discretion crucial to their business model,” Mordin informed. “Company’s cooperation with us reluctant, at best. _Could_ file request for definitive results, of course, but, likely would take months, with selective and minimal results. Bureaucracy, extremely inconvenient for research. ”

Tali had stopped listening after Mordin had told her they didn’t have the results. The Council was still harping at them over hypotheticals and potential, and she couldn’t even know if it was really something to worry about. 

Getting up from her chair, Tali retrieved the drone, placing it on her desk and turning it on. The drone lit up obediently, hovering above the desk and linking to Tali’s omnitool. Tali punched in simple movement commands, and the drone completed them with a handful of shuddering stops.Tali urged the drone to the edge of the desk, groaning when the drone toppled to the floor before levitating at foot level, its mass effect fields humming pathetically.

Looking up to make sure Mordin was absorbed in his work, Tali switched the drone’s settings to take commands through the desk computer. Pulling up the diagnostic program, Tali skimmed over the instructions. 

“Would you like to perform diagnostic test on Drone 3N-Z70X4?” the program asked when Tali selected the drone’s drive from the possible technology the computer detected.

Glancing at Mordin again and ensuring that the drone’s combat capabilities were disabled, Tali confirmed the selection, closing the windows when Mordin glanced at her, before he saw the reflection in her mask. EDI had been hesitant to test a prototype on the Normandy, especially after her platform had been destroyed and still had problems receiving signals from the ship. She stayed in the body for Joker’s sake, but depended on the ship’s stability. But the drone was expendable, if Tali couldn’t repair it, and if the prototype could tell her what was wrong without her spending several more hours on tests, it would be at worst harmless, hopefully informative.

Tali sat backas the drone blinked dully on the desk in response to the new signal. Mordin looked up absentmindedly from his work at the sound, ducking back over fiddling with wire when he saw nothing amiss. At least Mordin was having success, Tali admitted, tinkering with the other programs on the computer as she waited for something to happen. The smaller consolation was that even the Normandy didn’t have the guns and power to run most of the other programs the mercenaries had stolen. A comm upgrade here, a targeting upgrade there, it was as if they had just snatched whatever files they could at random.

“Mordin,” Tail ignored Mordin’s hum of annoyance for having his research disturbed again. “Do you think you could make the energy shields, given enough power?”

Mordin mumbled, scowling down at the armor in annoyance as he considered Tali’s question. Tali waited patiently as Mordin ran a calculation on his computer, “humphing” unhappily at the results and shaking his hand.

“Decoy holograms, standard, colored armor, simplistic,” Mordan waved his hand at his days worth of work carelessly. “But energy fields taxing on power reserves, expend too much, impractical.”

“Not to them,” Tali pointed out, watching the drone start to drift around the desk in small circles.

“No,” Mordin agreed bitterly, grating his claws on the desk in front of him. “Extremely effective, in fact. Agent reflexes impressive.”

“Great,” Tali sighed, twirling around in her chair. “What do you think they’re after?”

“Profit, most likely,” Mordin’s annoyance faded with a shrug at the simple question. “Black market incredibly lucrative, rare goods especially. Technological superiority highly desirable, even after geth uprising, no reason to change with the Reapers gone.”

Mordin paused, looking at Tali as if to say something comforting about the geth, then shaking his head and turning back to his work. Tali sighed, resting her chin on her arms and watching the drone blip. It was hard to take offense to Mordin, even though he had no filter. It was never personal, it was merely the cold observation of his exceedingly scientific mind. Still, Tali missed working with quarians with similar social graces.

“More concerned with our opponents hacking abilities, personally,“ Mordin said with an air of superiority, as if to prove Tali’s point. “Impressive ability to combat EDI could prove more problematic than their physical abilities.”

“EDI salvaged everything in time,” Tali said loyally, defensively thinking of her role in bringing EDI back online.

“Thank you for your confidence, Tali, but Dr. Solus is correct,” EDI said from above their heads. “In terms of technological advancements, I will rapidly becoming outdated without the appropriate maintenance. And likely, even with it.”

Tali decided not to mention that she was responsible for EDI’s upgrades, pushing herself away from her desk and leaving Mordin enraptured with his own genius and the drone clunking. She should have taken that break with Garrus, she thought as she wandered to find him in the dining hall. Now he was probably having a good natured ego stroking contest after beating James in hand to hand combat in the shuttle bay, or actually trying to bully Joker out of the cockpit for an arms lesson. Tali sighed irritably, knocking on Liara’s door and poking her head in carefully when it hissed open, always alert for Liara’s drone.

“Good evening, Tali'Zorah,” Glyph zoomed to shine in Tali’s face, bumping against her mask. “Dr. T’soni is working, she will be with you momentarily.“

“It’s alright, Glyph,” Liara called, standing in front of her computer and considering the large screen pensively. “I’m not getting anything _done_ …”

Tali quietly came to stand with Liara as the asari sorted through the collage of information covering her screen. Liara sighed, rubbing her forehead and banishing all of the agent files and their latest updates with a wave of her hand.

“Still no luck?” Tali asked sympathetically, shooing Glyph away as he hovered around her shoulders.

“Nothing new,” Liara admitted, bringing a new file up. “Same descriptions as Omega: all humans, but we knew that, two women, the redheaded leader and a blonde, two men, one bald with several tattoos and the young ‘cute’ one, thank you Kasumi, but that’s only part of their crew. Even Aria doesn't know more about them, there’s no record of a new ship docking that would raise suspicion, we’re just lucky Kasumi was there.”

“They have to be based somewhere,” Tali reminded.

“Of course,” Liara said irritably. “But no system has the infrastructure left to make tracking them down easy. There are mercenaries everywhere, most of my sources are still establishing themselves, and it’s not as if they wear that damned armor in public.”

Liara rubbed her forehead, looking disappointed as she closed her files and took a seat at her work desk. Turning restlessly her desk chair, Liara glanced at Tali, trying to look over a slew of datapads subtly.

“I’m sorry, did you need something?” Liara asked, pushing her work away politely

“Just a break from getting nowhere,” Tali sighed.

Liara nodded, looking at her screens and rolling her neck wearily. Liara had been working overtime since the Council had summoned them, wringing her sources for any information they had. But the Crash had loosened even the Shadow Broker’s hold on remote sources, and Liara’s information network had been severely depleted in the downtime while colonies and cities reestablished contact with each other. Liara slumped in her chair, smiling apologetically at Tali standing on the threshold.

“When I was younger, I used to love puzzles, and mysteries. It was fascinating, sorting all the evidence until my information seemed perfect. Now, I want answers immediately,” Liara explained guiltily. “And I hate waiting for _other_ people to find it.”

“I’d think you’d be used to it by now,” Tali teased when Liara smiled sadly. “Besides, you’re the one who makes it all mean something.”

“When I can,” Liara frowned, shaking her head and putting her datapads neatly in a drawer and closing it. “I’m sorry, were you just here to escape Mordin?”

“Business, actually.” Tali was apologetic this time. “You don’t happen to have any of the confidential records on Project…oh, 'the program.'”

“No, I was leaving that up to you and Mordin,” Liara seemed surprised, digging through her drawers. “I can try, but I don’t have any obvious sources on Nasurn yet…”

“No, no, never mind, “ Tali hastened to retract the extra work. “I just don’t like going into a project blind. Besides, Shepard is asking to know how effective it is, and I don’t like not having an answer.”

“What’s Shepard looking for?” Liara stopped fidgeting. “It won’t be effective with her cybernetics.”

“She doesn’t say anything specific,” Tali shook her head. “But it was developed to deal with whatever the Crucible did, so…”

Tali and Liara let the potential of Shepard’s request hang in the air between them. It was hard to forget the mountains of geth platforms that had littered the dead geth ships once the Crucible fired. Many of them had been salvaged, kept in storage by the quarians as their own memorial totheir creations and their own guilt. Other platforms had been used as scrap by the other species looking for anything to repair their malfunctioning ships so they could return home. Legion’s platform was still on the Normandy, kept in a case in the shuttle bay on Shepard’s orders and Tali’s agreement. Legion was gone, but the platform served as a reminder.

“The Council would never allow it,” Liara warned them of the obvious, the main obstacle to even the quarian scientists who wanted to look into reactivation. “It would be a coup.”

“No. But that hasn’t stopped Shepard before,” Tali pointed out. “Usually it just makes her try harder.”

Liara nodded in agreement, frowning with Tali over the possibilities. Even if they could find a way to reactivate the geth, the geth community had been an ally for such a fleeting moment, there would be heavy resistance against it from all fronts. Even the qurian organizations had lost their zeal the longer the Council refused their requests. It was the ideal, and the completion of an obligation Shepard had made for herself, Tali admitted, but it was far from plausible without a miracle.

“Have you asked the company?” Liara changed the subject softly. “That might be easiest.”

“They’re paranoid and are stonewalling us,” Tali admitted. “But now that we-“

Tali and Liara looked up and Glyph raced for the cabin door as someone shouted in the corridor. Liara leapt up at the sound of a crash and another shout beside gunfire, and Tali shoved Glyph out of her way as EDI boomed overhead, “All crew members, please refrain from shooting in the dining hall and other communal areas.”

“Don’t fucking shoot in my ship!” Joker added more emphatically. “Tali, what the hell’s going on down there?”

“I don’t know!” Tali said as she ran, Liara close behind her. “EDI?”

“It appears your drone has escaped the lab. It has already shot three tables and a bench,” EDI explained. “Fortunately, no one has been seriously injured.”

“That’s impossible, I disabled the guns,” Tali tripped over the grated floor.

“Apparently not,” EDI informed critically.

Tali groaned, rounding the corner to the dining hall and pushing her way through fleeing crew members as the sounds of chaos got worse. Liara shouted a warning, throwing up a barrier just as a round ricocheted off the floor in Tali’s direction. Racing through the dining hall, the flashing drone whirred furiously, spraying the room with gunfire as it hovered above the floor.

“I thought you said it wasn’t working!” Liara reminded.

“It wasn’t,” Tali said. “It’s still not moving right, I don’t-“

“I was more asking about the guns!” Liara shouted, looking up as the elevator chimed and Shepard and Kasumi appeared.

“Oh, you have to be shitting me,” Shepard unholstered her sidearm. “Anything else want to go wrong?!”

“Commander Shepard, please-“

“It’s one bullet from my gun or a dozen from that thing!” Shepard shouted at the ceiling indignantly.

“Aim carefully,” EDI finished contrarily.

“Well, at least it's working now,” Kasumi observed cheerfully. 

“Oh, _good_ ,” Tali spat.

Kasumi’s next attempt at optimism was lost in Shepard’s gunshot, the group collectively cursing as the drone zoomed sideways sharply, crashing into the wall and skidding along it, away from Shepard’s second bullet.

“Damn thing’s possessed,” Shepard growled, pushingmembers of the crew back as they came to see the commotion. “Tali, can you turn it off?”

“It’s not linked to me, I was running tests through the computer,” Tali said, ducking her head when Shepard glanced at her. “I figured I could run two tests at once, and Mordin is in the lab, I thought-“

The drone screeched shrilly, whistling frantically as it smashed into the corner of the hall and clattered to the floor. Shepard readied her gun as the drone skidded across the floor, ramming into the wall and into its own gunfire. With a loud pop and a flash of sparks, the drone clattered to a halt, leaking smoke as it stopped wailing and flickered out to expose the crumpled metal frame. Her gun at the ready, Shepard crept towards the fallen drone, kicking it with her boot and holstering her weapon as the frame snapped.

“Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?!” Joker demanded. 

“Its stopped, Joker,” Shepard assured, heading to the lab after Tali. “EDI, everything ok?”

“The damage is minor and I cannot feel pain through the ship,” EDI assured. “We are fortunate it did not reach the engine room.”

“Or the bridge,” Kasumi said, picking up the drone’s frame and tucking it under her arm as she followed Shepard and Tali. “Just in case.”

Tali wasn’t listening, helping Shepard pry open the dented lab doors and looking at the jumbled ruin of her desk and Mordin’s. Mordin stood over his overturned station, stemming the blood coursing down his shoulder with one hand as he surveyed the damage. Kasumi snatched the extinguisher from the wall, spraying out the smoking computer on the floor beside Tali's desk.

“Mordin,” Tali kicked the broken desk chair out of her way, reaching for Mordin’s good shoulder. “Here, let me get you some medigel.”

Mordin jumped, blinking at Tali in shock and taking his hand off of his shoulder to look at the wound. Shrugging with a wince of pain, Mordin shook his head, assuring, “Superficial, nothing broken. Can probably salvage most of the work. Not your computer, regrettably.”

“Forget the computer, what the hell happened?” Shepard asked, making Mordin stand still and accepting the medigal kit Kasumi handed to her.

“One would assume a malfunction,” EDI offered.

“Yes, thank you, EDI,” Shepard told the ceiling. “I was hoping Mordin had something more concrete. You’re a _doctor_ for Pete’s sake, stand still!”

“Nothing definitive, of course, observations were difficult. Would have shot it, but, wanted to respect EDI’s request,” Mordin said dryly, taking the frame that Kasumi held out. “Wasn’t aware that Tali was working on drone remotely.”

“I wasn’t,” Tali insisted. “I was.…”

Mordin nodded absentmindedly as Tali trailed off, wincing tolerantly when Shepard applied medigel as he pondered the drone frame and glanced at the computer. Liara picked her way over the wreckage, nudging Tali. Tali squirmed, guiltily watching the blood still leaking out of Mordin's bullet wound. She had turned off the combat program before she started working, she knew that. She always did, it was one of the basics of repair work: don’t try to rewire something that could potentially try to shoot you as soon as it turned on.

“I wasn’t testing it,” Tali admitted. “I thought it would be a good chance to use that stupid diagnostics program. I disabled the guns, and left it running basic tests. I was only gone for a few minutes, it shouldn’t have even been trying to shoot.”

“Perhaps you reactivated its combat protocols during manual testing,” Mordin suggested neutrally.

“I know how to turn off the guns,”Tali said defensively, feeling even worse as Mordin stared at her quizzically while Shepard wrapped his shoulder. “It shouldn’t have shot anything, and it shouldn’t have been moving without orders from the computer. That computer.”

Tali pointed to the blackened heap of computer parts on the floor of the lab, still covered with bubbling chemicals from the fire extinguisher. Mordin cleared his throat, considering the wreckage and rolling his eyes to look at Tali.

“I’m sorry you got shot,” Tali admitted, and Mordin shrugged apathetically as he brushed the bandage on his shoulder. “But it shouldn’t have tried to shoot you at all.”

“So, why did it?”Shepard asked suspiciously, wiping off her hands and looking at Mordin for an answer, stabbing Tali in her pride.

Mordin shook his head, glancing from the fizzling drone to Tali’s ruined computer, and then to Tali standing in the center of the mess. Tali twisted her hands, ignoring Garrus and Kaidan as they came in from calming the crew, and Garrus whistled. Mordin shook out of his haze of thought, kicking at the debris around him and muttering.

“Given computer's…incapacitation, drone exhibits interesting malfunction. Agree, Tali, we should request test results from company on Nasurn. Thank you, Shepard.”

With that, Mordin placed the drone next to the armor experiment on his desk, humming to himself as he straightened papers and turned the armor fragment over to look for damage. Tali shared a look with Liara and Shepard, asking tentatively, “Aren’t you going to clean off the blood?”

“Oh,” Mordin looked down. “Yes, that would be prudent. Tali, perhaps you can straighten your area, leave mine, thank you.”

Kaidan and Garrus shared a disbelieving look as Mordin primly walked through the debris, rubbing at the blood on his sleeve unhappily as he walked between his still gaping crew mates. 

“I’m sorry you got shot!” Tali reminded as Mordin headed to his quarters off the lab.

“Regrettable, but, part of the job, faulty equipment to be expected,” Mordin said cheerfully, waving away the concern. “Shepard, perhaps lean on Council to demand necessary records, as soon as possible.”

Mordin nodded in confirmation that his recommendation would be followed, and disappeared into his quarters. Shepard stood with her mouth hanging open to say something, throwing up her hands and muttering, “Ok, lean on Council, forget the demonic drone shooting my biologist, sure. Someone check on him later, please.”

“I’ll do it,” Tali volunteered, wilting when she called Shepard’s attention back to her. “It’s my fault, I should have stayed to see that the test was running right.”

Shepard rubbed at Mordin’s blood on her hands, shaking her head and smiling at Tali quickly. Garrus came up and draped his arm over Tali’s shoulders, comforting, “I think Mordin likes working under battlefield conditions.”

“That would be one explanation,” Shepard laughed softly at Garrus’ teasing, then frowning slightly. “Just don’t run that thing again before we get answers. It might be a fluke, but, I don’t want to risk it on something more…important. Liara, Kaidan, make sure no one’s injured.”

“Ok,” Tali nodded obediently, watching quietly as Shepard walked away, the commander running a hand through her hair and summoning Cortez up and EDI down to inspect the damage while Kaidan and Liara tended to the rattled crew. Garrus tightened his grip around Tali’s shoulders as the others left.

“It’s not so bad,” Garrus reassured. “Most of the furniture should be useable.”

“I meant to make _less_ work, not more,” Tali groaned, stepping away from Garrus and bending down to pick through the scorched computer parts. “Somehow this just made everything worse.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, York smokes on occasion, and Carolina rarely. No, smoking is not a great habit, which is amply acknowledged, and he never did in canon, but in my experience, if you have a lighter ready to hand out, you probably use it for a cigarette like thing at some point.

“This is beginning to feel like a boy’s club,” Connie accused bitterly as she took a seat, glowering at a grinning York“Oh, fuck you.”

Wyoming snickered proudly with Maine at one shoulder and Gamma perched on the other, and Carolina resisted the urge to kick North in the shins as he and York shared a congratulatory fist bump. South made up for it by punching her brother’s shoulder, before sitting down next to Connie and propping her feet on the desk in front of her. 

“The system is there for a reason,” Wyoming shrugged proudly, looking at Gamma drifting around his back to stand by Maine and copy Sigma’s position on his agent’s left shoulder. "Stay put for one second, for Christ's sake."

“Yeah? What about Wash?” South asked, looking over her shoulder for the younger agent suspiciously. “He cut in line.”

“Changed rank, that’s another point of the system,” Carolina corrected to sooth her pride.

“Whatever,” South rolled her eyes, sulking with Connie and petulantly ignoring her brother. “It’s still bullshit.”

“Give the kid some credit,” York admitted, waving his hand and catching the lighter Carolina tossed to him, flicking it open to light a cigarette. “At least he got us another job.”

Carolina reclaimed the lighter York underhanded back, tucking it into her pocket and watching Wash saunter into the conference room proudly. Assuming he had his facts right, Wash had done a good job this time, reaching out through his old smuggling contacts to get the scoop on a shipment of parts the Director wanted. Just “parts,” from simple metal frames to rarer robotics, a shopping list Carolina suspected was mostly a smoke screen. The Director had hidden his real objective from everyone but himself for as long as Carolina had remembered, and there was no reason he would change over a new job.

“Yeah, and how did you find this new gig?” Connie stuck out her leg to trip Wash out of his haughty strut.

“A guy I used to run with hooked me up with a source,” Wash said, taking the nearest seat and stretching calmly at Connie’s ire.

“Sounds super legit,” South scoffed, flicking her fingers at York and growling when York stuck the cigarette back into his own mouth.

“Yeah,” Wash nodded, ignoring or missing South’s sarcasm, Carolina couldn’t tell. “My guy and this guy used to do errands for the Shadow Broker, we couldn’t get a better source if we were reading the manifests themselves.”

“He’s getting better,” York noted quietly leaning forward over his desk to talk to Carolina, blowing a ring of smoke around Delta as the AI appeared to look at the cigarette disapprovingly. 

“He was always good,” North said with a shadow of weary pride in his voice. “He just needed to get used to the new order.”

Carolina nodded, accepting the cigarette from York and taking a quick puff, letting the comforting habit dull her annoyance at Wyoming and Maine. Gamma had been with Wyoming for four days, and neither was adjusting well. Carolina hadn’t thought the AI’s could get more robotic than Delta, but while Gamma looked like Sigma, a cool foggy blue man next to Sigma’s fiery form, his voice was as synthetic as older mech’s, and his interpersonal skills were even worse than Delta’s. So far, Gamma had shown no real interest in the other AI’s, seeming confused by Sigma’s greeting in place of Maine, indifferent to Delta’s mutual lack of interest, and annoyed by Theta’s faltering glances. That was something, Carolina thought as she watched Delta drift to the opposite end of the desk from Theta and ignore Sigma watching the movement curiously. Carolina just didn’t know if it was good or bad yet.

“Why are we even required to attend these things, again?” South continued to complain while they waited. “Kinda pointless without the gadgets.”

“To be ready for when you _get_ the gadgets,” York said, flicking ash into the tray in South’s general direction. "It'd be nice to have gotten the orientation before hand."

“For all the good it does, I feel as if my brain is having a feedback loop,” Wyoming grumbled, wincing as Gamma studied York. “Bloody hell, can’t you go into stasis or something?”

“No, I cannot,” Gamma said in cold broken phrases. “Is there anything else you require?”

“We are incapable of stasis while armed, Agent Wyoming,” Delta advised. 

“Brilliant,” Wyoming growled, rolling his eyes at Gamma’s latest consideration. “Just what I want, a running commentary from a lightbulb.”

“I am not a lightbulb,” Gamma said without inflection. “I am a hologram, projected by-“

“I know!” Wyoming shouted. “Ah, little bugger.”

“Would you prefer to call me ‘Little-‘“

“No! Gamma is fine!” Wyoming waved his hands at the attentive AI.

“Humans are more often figurative than literal,” Sigma observed while Maine growled, tilting his head when Gamma drifted away without a response. “There are a number of colloquialisms.”

“It’s like Christmas,” York whispered gleefully to North.

“Like you were eloquent when you were adjusting,” Carolina reminded, stealing the cigarette before York and North could gloat any further. “You asked, ‘Can you pass detrimental jerky heart?'”

“Over consumption of processed meat can be harmful to the human vascular system,” Delta informed, watching York closely. "As can the chemicals found in many to-"

“No one asked you, D,” York retorted, snatching back his cigarette and having a final draw before crushing it out before the Instructor could yell at him. 

The Director and their primary instructor filed into the room, simultaneously wrinkling their noses at the stale smoke. Carolina sensed the other agents sit up straighter alongside her when they noticed the presence of the Director. Other than AI evaluations and mission briefings, the Director rarely intervened on the daily activities of the agents. 

“Have we made any progress with the source?” the Director asked.

‘The source,’ the Director called him, more commonly known as Steven Cortez. Carolina looked at York and North over her shoulder, feeling unease radiating from both of them. Theta’s skateboard blinked out as he missed a jump and stood in front of North, and Delta flashed to face York for a split instant before facing the front of the room.

“I have successfully expanded the civilian record of Agent North Dakota’s alias,” Delta reported promptly.

“I’m still laying the ground work,” North said too easily, watching York carefully. “Figured I’d lead into the hard quest-“

“And tracking the communications?” the Director cut North off.

“Ah…” York muttered.

“That has proven difficult,” Delta admitted for him. “The Normandy’s security is more comprehensive than previously anticipated.”

“Can you overcome it?” the Director asked York.

“Probably,” York said with the right tone over a nervous swallow.

“We have yet to determine if other attempts will be effective,” Delta added to fill in York’s short answer.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance,” Sigma offered, floating closer to Delta and in front of the Director. “I was designed to be more adaptive.”

All of the agents looked at York and Delta in surprise over the frank request. Theta dimmed himself until he was almost translucent in the tense silence, and York’s mouth jerked as he watched Sigma floating above the aisle. Delta didn’t respond, bursting out suddenly when York knocked his knuckles against his desk sharply near Delta’s feet. 

“He has a point,” Wyoming said with a sideways grin, watching York carefully. “Delta isn't the only hacking pet anymore."

“We’re working on it,” York said, and Delta reappeared gradually along with Theta. “If that doesn’t work, we can always try the old fashion way, have him download a bug that gives me access when North sends him something.”

“Yeeeaaah, North, get some,” Wash crowed. 

“Oh, gross,” South pretended to gag when North elbowed York and Connie whistled mockingly through her fingers.

“Ground. Work,” North twisted York’s elbow, holding it in a painful pinch while he talked to the Director. “Either way, I need more than a week. I can’t go from ‘so, coffee?’ to ‘any sting missions planned?’”

The Director pushed his glasses up, an angry tic that almost looked like a natural gesture if you didn’t know what to look for. Carolina shifted in her chair, watching the Director force himself to conceal his annoyance at having to relinquish control to North’s personal skills.

“And the other crew members? Any potential for another source?” the Director asked, peering at Carolina expectantly over his glasses.

Mistaking the look for him, North retreated into his seat, crossing his arms and looking at York for an answer in the same resentful silence he fell into whenever the subject came up. Theta brought his skateboard back up, watching North as he pushed the board back and forth restlessly.

“There’s other crew, yeah, but this is probably our best shot,” York said, Delta flickering as York paused. “Actually…”

York turned in his seat, and Carolina shared a grimace with North. Carolina had been on board with York’s plan to intercept Shepard. But North was making it hard to stick to business by refusing to just give York control of his mail and trying to play intelligence agent. There were enough uncertainties already, she didn’t need York throwing a desperate curveball to prove his scheme would work.

“Connie?” York asked, leaning on the back of his chair.

Connie looked up from messing with her omnitool, immediately suspicious of York’s hopeful expression. York waved his hand at her, prompting, “You’ve seen me work with sources for awhile now, think we have another one on the Normandy crew?”

Connie turned back to her omnitool, saying flatly at the screen, “No.”

“The jarhead'd boast about anything for a shot, he’d probably be easier if we can set it up,” York wheedled. 

“Yeah, ‘cause he makes gorilla’s look complex,” Connie said. “Give me a break, York, you can’t expect me to-“

“He’s expecting North to,” South said pettily.

"But North actually  _li-_ "

“Who?” the Director demanded over their bickering, still looking to Carolina for answers.

“James Vega,” Carolina answered, projecting the soldier’s file up to the front of the room. “Kid of the crew. Not as much of a military grunt as we thought, he’s loyal, but they’ve got issues with him and his record is a mess, probably why he got assigned to Shepard in the first place.”

“He took an interest in Connie,” North sighed.

“He’d take interest in a krogan if you gave it boobs!” Connie said indignantly. 

“Krogans do not have the biological structure necessary for mammary glands,” Gamma interjected.

“That was the intent of Agent Connecticut’s humorous hyperbole,” Sigma said helpfully, addressing Gamma when the other AI looked at him.

“I’m not asking either of you to really put out!” York announced loudly. “I mean, that’s your call, but I just need eyes and ears on the Normandy, with flirting to get them talking, not prostitution. It’s not new, you’ve seen me do it!”

“Big of you,” Connie grumbled.

“It would be possible to attempt the same tactics with both Lieutenants Steve Cortez and James Vega, thus increasing the likelihood of success with one subject” Delta explained and York nodded.

“He’s got a point,” Carolina agreed as she felt the Director waiting for her verdict. “If it doesn’t work, we still have a spare.”

“And a backup if one of them gets pushy,” York added earnestly.

“You S.O.B,” Connie groaned at the ceiling. “If he cops a feel, I’m taking a testicle as compensation.”

“Go for it,” York encouraged.

“No, I mean _your_ testicle, I’ll break his fucking neck,” Connie elaborated.

“Fair, I call dibs on destroying the other one,” North nodded smugly to York’s offended expression.

“Do it,” the Director decided for them, looking over Vega’s file. “The rest of you, start preparing for the next assignment.”

“The ‘rest of you’?” York suddenly stopped scheming, sitting up beside North. 

“Yes,” the Director said, taking a short note on his own omnitool instead of talking to York. “The three of you are restricted to the ship for all non-armored missions and any shore leave not at the Citadel.”

“ _What?!”_ Connie shouted, broken out of her sulk.

York’s triumphant mood curdled, and Theta disappeared again as North kicked the bottom of his desk, hissing something at York. Carolina opened her mouth to protest- North was one of their best negotiators, and a good second in command when she needed York with her, York was even more organized, and Connie was good in a firefight. But they had always kept negotiations small, South could run a negotiation without North, and Maine and Wyoming were more than happy to use their guns whenever possible. 

“That leaves us three AI’s down,” Wash added to Carolina’s reservations nervously.

“Which shouldn’t be used for non-combat interactions, regardless,” the Director pointed out. “ Agent York, I’m sure you understand the importance of maintaing your anonymity, given the situation?”

York’s face fell further, and he nodded slowly, studying the desk in angry silence. North kicked the desk again, looking at Connie and sharing a poisonous glare at York with her. The Director closed his screen, nodding to the waiting instructor as he headed for the door.

“Is everything clear?” the Director asked, sweeping a look over the room.

“Yes, sir,” the crew answered in unison, Wyoming cheerfully, Wash and South wearily, Carolina automatically, and York, Connie, and North growling with Maine.

“This is bullshit,” York muttered to himself when the door closed, lighting a second cigarette and hissing the smoke out between his teeth away from a thunderously angry North.

The lecture was tense, none of the agents really listening to another monologue about the distinction between VIs and their installed AIs. The agents with AIs only became more sour at being lectured about their own implants, and the ones without them were tired of hearing what they were missing. Carolina couldn’t help but watch Sigma and Gamma enviously.She hadn’t been assigned an implant time yet, and she was too proud to ask if she had entirely forfeited her advantage in the ranks and would be the last on the list now. Maybe she had missed her chance, her intended assignment, by giving Sigma to Maine so quickly. While Theta played through the lecture and Delta stood rigid in front of York, Sigma drifted throughout the classroom as the Instructor talked, pulsing while he scanned the projections the Instructor used. Gamma was still, watching the humans around him, starting to move as the lecture continued, following Sigma’s path stealthily. 

Carolina saw Sigma pause, and Gamma flashed back to Wyoming’s side innocently. Sigma’s face was obscured, but he ducked his head, continuing his migration without another hesitation, ignoring Gamma’s similar behavior. Carolina blinked to attention as the projection shrank back into the Instructor’s omnitool, quietly following the others out.

“Agent Maine, Agent Wyoming, please report to the med-bay for your assessments,” F.I.L.S.S. asked and ordered politely as the agents meandered back to their rooms.

“I just had one,” Wyoming complained.

“Get used to them,” York said, North nodding and scratching his head beside him. 

“Anyone up for some sparring?” Wash asked tentatively. 

The others all shook their heads, too annoyed to care that Wash looked offended as they split to their respective rooms. North caught York’s arm, pulling him into his doorway and talking him in sharp soft tones, making York rub his implant scar uncomfortably and groan. Leaving them to their dysfunctional couple’s spat, Carolina took shelter in her bed. Things were getting complicated again. Not Reaper complicated, thank God, but messy. Tinkering with computers was all well and good, but as much as Carolina hated agreeing with Connie’s malcontent cynicism, she had a point. Advancements were only useful if they could be applied on a significant scale, not the pet project of a crew of misfits. 

Dragging herself out of her sulk, Carolina forced herself to sit at her desk, going over the details Wash had given her. Joab in the Rosetta Nebula was their next stop, which would mean a trek for the transport ship, but nothing Four Seven Niner couldn’t handle blindfolded.Wash knew he trade well, Carolina had to admit. He had picked a human colony not known for it’s crime, where most civilians, bounty hunters, or bumbling soldiers wouldn't be expecting to find mercenaries making deals in the open, and security would be light. Wyoming, Wash, and even North and South had been pestering Carolina to start forging connections with the Shadow Broker, the mysterious puppet master of the information underworld. Now was as good an opening as any, if Wash could tie it together. Carolina wasn’t sure Wash was that good.

“Fuck,” Carolina leaned her head on her hands, making a list of all the arms and ammo they would need to give to North as a consolation prize.

Carolina would have to ask the Director if Maine was officially cleared for missions without his new companion to talk for him, or scratch another top agent off her roster. Meanwhile, Shepard had a top of the line ship, an endless supply of the best weapons the military had to offer, her own cult, and the support of the most powerful administrative body in the galaxy. Lucky bitch. Carolina was just starting to feel she had accomplished a passable inventory for the twins when York knocked on her door. 

“Great, I need a break,” Carolina greeted him with a kiss, starting to unbutton her shirt.

“Ah, yeah, um, not really what I had in mind,“ York cleared his throat as Carolina opened her shirt to tempt him. “I still have-”

“Are you sick?” Carolina teased, just starting to help York with his shirt when Delta appeared in front of her face.

“Agent York is suffering from cephalalgia,” Delta reported, unfazed by Carolina yanking her shirt closed.

“‘Headache’, D, we talked about using _English_ ,” York groaned, adding remorsefully, “I tried to warn you?”

“Cephalalgia, meaning headache,” Delta said stiffly.

“Isn’t that your job?” Carolina pointed out savagely, glaring at York for making her day even more humiliating.

“I cannot address injuries outside of Agent York’s armor,” Delta sounded confused. “And medigel is not designed for cephalal…headaches.”

“Thank you,” York said sarcastically. “But, do you have aspirin? I’ve had this since the lecture ended, it hurts like a bitch.”

“Sure,” Carolina sighed, digging into her desk drawer and throwing York the bottle. “Next time, lead with ‘Delta’s still in.’”

“I did not mean to intrude, Agent Carolina,” Delta said. “You may proceed, if you and Agent York wish.”

“Oh, _hell_ no,” York shook his head, pouring out two pills while Carolina stared back to a politely attentive Delta. “I’m not having you watch that.”

“But I am already aware of your relationship with Agent Carolina, it does not offend me,” Delta said simply. “Additionally, sexual intercourse may lessen the severity of your...headache.”

“I said no for _me_! Jesus, you’re worse than Gamma,” York grumbled, sitting down on Carolina’s bed and pressing his hands to his eyes. “Just be quiet for a little bit.”

“Of course. I apologize for any discomfort, Agent Carolina,” Delta said, disappearing before Carolina could add her own opinion.

York hissed between his teeth, digging into his pockets and bringing out his pack of cigarettes, putting one in his lips and searching for a lighter. Carolina dropped it on the comforter next to him, watching York light his third cigarette of the day and inhale slowly.

“I thought you had kind of kicked the habit,” Carolina reminded, lying down next to York.

“I had, I’m treating myself,” York coughed, sitting up and dragging his ash tray from Carolina’s desk to put on his chest. “I’m grounded from the only good part of this job, for doing too good a job, North and Connie are pissed off, and my head’s been killing me.”

“See the docs,” Carolina suggested, taking a small puff of the cigarette guiltily. “They warned us about that in the lectures.”

“Nah, North and I have had this problem since things went to shit on Nasurn, the docs didn’t find anything and it’ll go away in about an hour,” York assured. “North thinks its the A.I.’s projecting back our stress, but I think it’s just from running them all day without armor to take some of the weight. It makes both of us…tense. North’s got it worse, he’s had migraine almost every day this week, he almost took Theta out. Can I keep these?”

“Sure,” Carolina shrugged, and York tucked the medicine in his pocket, tapping the cigarette and letting it burn down. “Why don’t you just store Delta and get some sleep?”

“I will, once I know Maine and Wyoming aren’t down there,” York nodded. “Delta isn’t nuts about Sigma’s chatty side, it just makes the headache worse.”

“ _Can_ Delta dislike things?” Carolina had to ask.

“D?” York asked, looking down expectantly.

“Not as you would understand it, I do not have an emotional response to stimuli,” Delta appeared. “I analyze conditions as favorable or unfavorable. Interaction with Sigma is unfavorable, given regulations.”

"So a relationship with me is favorable?" Carolina was almost flattered.

Delta thought for a moment, explaining, "It is psychologically and emotionally beneficial to Agent York, although, tactically, it is detrimental to both of your objectivity in high stress situations. However, it is _more_ favorable, than unfavorable, given my assignment to Agent York. Another A.I. would see the variables differently for their respective agent."

"That's...almost not awful, thanks Delta," Carolina praised Delta for trying.

York exhaled slowly, dropping the cigarette butt into the ash tray and closing his eyes again, making Delta disappear. Carolina sighed, lying next to him and watching to see if he would sleep. York opened his eyes, raising his eyebrow and waving his hand irritably in Carolina’s face until she stopped staring.

“He crack down on you?” York said sympathetically, rubbing his eyes.

“Not more than usual,” Carolina joined York in staring at the ceiling. “He has more important things to do than make a special trip.”

“Small blessings?” York asked, glancing at Carolina and then back to the ceiling, nodding at his mistake. “Well, sorry D cocked blocked us.”

“That’s ok. I wasn’t really in the mood anyway,” Carolina admitted.

“At least we learned D’s a bit of a voyeur…” York said thoughtfully, grimacing at himself.

Carolina snorted, seeing York’s head jerk as he forced Delta to stay internal for the accusation. Rolling over, Carolina put the ash tray aside, leaned over York. He looked tired, maybe genuinely sick from working over time with Delta to make sure North's annoyance was worth it.

“I dunno, it was kinda sexy,” Carolina fought to keep a straight face when York looked mortified. “Like a new toy.”

Carolina grinned as York opened his mouth to squawk in disgust, catching on as Carolina started laughing at the idea of Delta making anything sexy. Scowling in feigned offense, York bounced his head on the mattress to get comfortable, chuckling, “Delta does not find engaging in 'human coitus’ favorable.”

“That’ll teach the little perv,” Carolina said smugly, laying her head on York’s chest and trying to sleep through the rest of the day, before something else went wrong.


	14. Chapter 14

_To Lt. Steve Cortez,_

_Alright, not to come on too strong, but I can’t ignore it anymore: what am I supposed to call you? Lieutenant makes it feel as if I’m reporting in or getting written up. Your crew calls you “Steve” and “Cortez” in an even split, and I get the feeling Esteban is a privileged or barely tolerated address from whatever I’m supposed to call ‘James’ or ‘Vega.’What’s the appropriate way for a bar crawler to get your attention, if, say, I had to shout so you noticed me and had to remember who I was. Just in case._

_So, now that I’ve dethroned you for the worst icebreaker, I was thinking I could apply your reply when you were at the Citadel again. I’m not always in the neighborhood, but Elliot is already planning ways to impress Shepard and Garrus with some trade secrets. And just a head’s up, Tissot keeps asking ‘what’s Vega’s deal?’, and the last time she asked that about a guy, I walked in on them naked two weeks later, so you might want to warn Vega to flash a picture of his partner the next time they’re in the same room, and she’ll get the hint. Give her a break, the men around here look like an asari incubated some bad krogan DNA to see what would happen. Except for yours truly, and Elliot after his morning routine. Anyway, point is, we’re all stir crazy from paperwork and waiting for an excuse to have some shore leave. Figured we could give the ‘casual test run’ another go. Let me know._

_Nate/Nathan_

 

 

“Someone got mail,” James laughed when he caught Steve reading, dropping from his pull up bar and stretching his shoulders. “At least wait ’til I finish this set.”

“It’s not like that,” Steve muttered, turning his chair so James could see. 

James leaned over Steve’s shoulder, and Steve remembered Nate’s warning about Tissot too late when he noticed James start grinning as he reached the end. Steve supposed he should be happy that James had a chance too, but he didn’t relish the idea of trying to set James up while he had his own worries.

“Told you I had a shot,” James clapped Steve on the shoulder smugly. “But damn, I’ve read dirtier things on a hanar dating site, step it up.”

“Some of us like leading up to that,” Steve informed, closing his mailbox before James could pry any further.

“But what if it’s all lead up and no _oomph_?” James asked, looking down at his lap and up as the elevator chimed. “At least the ladies have a sort of display rack even if it goes wrong later.” 

“I was _going_ to tell Nate you were interested about Tissot, but maybe I shouldn’t,” Steve threatened as Kaidan got out of the elevator. “Before Tissot changes her mind about punching you.”

“Tissot?” James shook his head, then nodded in recognition. “Right, weird. Ok, it was a joke, I’m trying to get the appeal.”

“Nice eyes are a bonus. Strong hands.  You can look for a nice, uh, figure from the back or front,” Kaidan patted at his own posterior in explanation as he came to stand beside Steve. “Muscles too, if you're into that. In addition to, y’know, good conversation, something in common, an emotional understanding, those types of things.”

Steve nodded agreement, hiding a smile when he saw Kaidan’s eyes snap in amusement over James’ shamefaced expression after the teasing. If Steve was looking for something long term, he would have seconded Kaidan's advice. But he had had that once, and he wasn’t getting his hopes up for something like that just yet. Nate seemed like a nice compromise, for now.

“Yeah, that too, but just for _fun_ ,” James said bashfully before preening proudly. “Besides, that C.T. chick can throw a punch like an old squad mate of mine, that counts.”

“At least wait until you’ve talked to her for more than ten minutes before naming her,” Steve begged, moving his tools so Kaidan could sit on the edge of his desk.

“It’s better than Constantine or Tissot,” James insisted. “Connie, but that sounds like your neighbor’s kid sister.”

“Yeah, maybe not Connie,” Kaidan muttered, straightening Steve's desk. 

“They’re asking to meet at _Purgatory_ the next time we’re at the Citadel,” Steve hastened to get to a better topic when he saw Kaidan starting to brew. “What do you think?”

Kaidan rubbed his knuckles against his mouth, nodding without listening and blinking to attention when Steve’s announcement finally hit his brain. Smiling quickly to cover his lapse, Kaidan nodded, admitting, “It’d be nice to kick back without a bar fight this time, and it did Shepard good to relax once Elliot stopped remembering London.”

“Yeah, she usually hates getting mobbed,” James nodded, pulling his dog tags out of his shirt. “Let’s do it.”

“We might not get back there soon,” Kaidan warned Steve. “We have to make progress out here first.”

“He said when we do,” Steve assured. 

“He?'” Kaidan chuckled at Steve’s forced nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, I’ll run it by Shepard, but I don’t see why we wouldn’t. But in the meantime, EDI says a stray bullet is interfering with the electronics in the mess, she needs an extra set of hands when you have a minute.”

Kaidan tapped the desk as he got up, leaving Steve to shut down his computer reluctantly and gather his tools. Kaidan waited patiently by the elevator while Steve stuffed whatever he might need in his pack, throwing a spare bolt at James' back and only making the younger man chortle proudly to himself.It was probably good to sit on Nate’s message for a few hours, before he seemed overeager. There was no point on laying it on to thick too soon, if they weren’t going to be in the same place for weeks. Steve ground his teeth as he felt Kaidan smirking beside him in the elevator, sneaking knowing looks in his direction.

“You’re as bad as James, but you’re quiet about it,” Steve accused, trying to be annoyed.

“Understood, Lieutenant. Your good mood should annoy me,” Kaidan held up his hands to make peace, setting his mouth in a serious line.

Kaidan looked over when Steve watched him skeptically. Kaidan jutted out his chin and scowled seriously, the firm expression ending at his mouth while his eyes narrowed from trying not to grin. Steve leaned against the elevator wall, waiting patiently until Kaidan clicked his jaw back into place, rubbing his chin unhappily as Steve chuckled. 

“It’s nothing yet,” Steve reminded. “A few of emails, who knows if we’ll ever even get those drinks.”

“Maybe not. But he's handsome, you like talking to him, and he seems interested,” Kaidan explained. “No harm in enjoying the nice views and conversation until you decide if there's more to it.”

Steve had to nod, waving to Kaidan as they split from the elevator, jerking back in surprise when he came face to face with EDI around the corner. EDI had gotten so accustomed to addressing the crew in person and using the intercom for official announcements and combat communication that it was disturbingly easy to forget that she had full run of the ship when she was looking for something.

“I did not mean to pull you away from personal time,” EDI said, tilting her mouth up in a smile that was kind, despite her metal frame. 

“I thought I had pried out all the shrapnel, personal time can wait,” Steve waved away the courtesy, readjusting his tool kit. “We should finish before you lose function somewhere.”

“It is minor interference from the metal, I can easily reroute any necessary power, but thank you,” EDI said calmly, leading Steve to one of the wall panels he had just replaced.

Steve knelt down, digging into his kit and starting to loosen the bolts and screws. EDI watched him curiously, always intrigued when Steve used older tools instead of a specialized omni-tool. Omni-tools were good for welding and cutting, but older tools provided more mobility, and Steve liked working with solid instruments for a change. Laying the parts out neatly to keep them straight, Steve stood back as EDI caught the heavy panel, lifting it as if it weighed nothing and setting it aside carefully.

“It is three centimeters to your right,” EDI said helpfully, leaning over Steve and pointing.

“Do you want to do it?” Steve asked, offering EDI the pliers.

“No thank you,” EDI declined, still pointing to the bullet fragment imbedded in the back wall. “I do not enjoy most self-maintenance.”

“Does it hurt?” Steve asked, clicking his tongue at the shard of bullet wedged beside the wires, still warm from the surrounding current.

“No. But it is nice to have others perform the necessary simple repairs. It is like…being cared for at a spa,” EDI said cheerfully. “I am about to shut of power in this section of the ship.”

Steve laughed at EDI's reassurance, looking around as the lights dimmed in the mess hall and the wiring stopped buzzing. EDI ‘ha-ed’ at her joke, short and synthetic. It was one human response she struggled to express, along with crying and shouting, even though Steve didn’t doubt the emotions were there. EDI’s vocal range had expanded with the help of Tali's rebuild, but there were some functions that were difficult without a higher grade of robotics, which, even if they were still available, couldn’t be obtained without an explanation of what they were for. Unfortunately, EDI had been the Normandy’s best kept secret since she had regained function after the Crash.

“Well, then, ma’am, would you prefer I use the pump or long nosed pliers?” Steve asked, putting on gloves and holding up the options. 

“Whichever you think is better, though I would suggest the long nosed,” EDI advised seriously, smiling indulgently.

“No, I was trying…it’s like a spa, they’d ask what you want,” Steve explained to EDI’s blank expression. “It’s all about making the customer comfortable and happy.”

“Oh!” EDI said, smiling widely. “In that case, the long nosed pliers, please. Thank you.”

Steve stretched to the back of the interior wall, clamping the pliers onto the fragment of bullet and wrenching. With a crack, the fragment shifted, scraping the pliers until they lost their grip. Grumbling, Steve, gripped the side of the wall and stretched forward, twisting hard and yelping on instinct as his hands brushed against the dead wires.

“Are you alright?” EDI asked, leaning down to see the problem.

“Yeah, one more should do it,” Steve assured, tugging the gloves straight and jerking at the fragment.

With a clicking scrape and a soft squeak from EDI, the remains of the shattered bullet popped out of the wall, and Steve caught it before it fell into the bowels of the ship. Tossing the singed piece in his palm, Steve straightened up, offering it to EDI.

“Feel better?” he asked, dropping it with a clink into EDI’s outstretched hand.

The lights overhead flickered, and EDI nodded, handing the shard back to Steve and standing thoughtfully as her visor flickered. Bending down, EDI held the panel in place as Steve fastened it back into place.

“Thank you, I am detecting no further complications,” EDI said as Steve tightened the final bolt and stood up.

“Great, glad that worked,” Steve wiped off his hands. 

“Is there a tipping policy?” EDI asked, patting her legs where pockets would be.

“Uh…no, it’s on the house, least I can do for botching it the first time,” Steve laughed. 

“That’s very generous of you,” EDI said flatly, but with a small smirk pulling her mouth askew. “Thank you, you can return to you leisure activities.”

“Let me know if anything else need a tune up,” Steve said. “How’s your body?”

EDI paused, looking down at her platform. It hadn't changed much from it's original form, some joints replaced by geth parts, but most limbs still intact once Tali reconnected everything. Steve had never asked EDI what she remembered of shutting down, and EDI never mentioned it beyond referencing "her malfunction" or "being rebuilt."

“This platform was created for infiltration as well as combat,” EDI brushed off her hands too, looking over herself. “Since I have limited my movement to the ship, this body has sustained no significant wear. But thank you for asking.”

EDI’s voice never changed from calm observation, but Steve felt a twinge of pity as he saw EDI looked around the ship’s interior. EDI never complained about her confinement. Joker and Shepard tried to compensate by bringing her souvenirs from shore leave and smuggling her to Shepard’s apartment every few months, but until intergalactic policy changed, EDI’s very existence was illegal. Of course, superiors like Hackett turned a blind eye to the evidence that she very much existed, but that couldn’t protect her from the public or most politicians.

“Well, that’s..good,” Steve cleared his throat, wishing he hadn’t asked. “I should get back, before James tries to snoop through my stuff.”

“I would not permit that,” EDI assured. “Use of another crew member’s possessions or account without their authorization would be immediately reported to Commander Shepard.”

“Um, thank you, I’ll…be sure to remind Mr. Vega,” Steve replied, blurting,“Does that include you? You’re crew, but you’re also the screening and surveillance software for the entire ship.”

EDI tilted her head over the question, smiling softly as Steve felt an uncomfortable heat rise up his neck when he caught himself too late. It was another thing the crew forced themselves to forget about the Normandy: there was nothing stopping EDI from being omniscient while they were aboard.

“Of course, Lieutenant Cortez. Any abuse of my administrative and security functions would necessitate reporting myself as a member of Commander Shepard’s crew,” EDI assured with an amused buzz. “With the exception of activities that threaten the safety of the crew or the mission, which I do not detect.”

“Oh. Good. Good. Good to know,” Steve gulped, patting the panel to make sure it was safe. “Carry on, then.”

Steve smacked the panel experimentally again, too aware that EDI was watching him calmly, still largely impervious to human social discomfort. Wiping off his hands on his shirt, Steve nodded, bustling around EDI and counting the tools in his kit.

“Steve,” EDI called, still looking at Steve steadily when he slowly turned around to the personal address. EDI brushed her hands off again when she saw Steve doing the same, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. “Although a significant percentage of human relationships do not last, or even come to fruition, it is nice to see the potential. It has been beneficial for crew morale.”

EDI smiled warmly, patting the panel with a metallic clang to prove its soundness when Steve looked at that instead of her steady stare. The unanimous outpouring of support over a bar fling wasn’t what Steve had been anticipating. Still, EDI was smiling and waiting in complete patience.

“Thanks, EDI,” Steve managed to smile back. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Steve hitched up his tool kit, motioning for EDI to go first as she turned and headed for the cockpit and Joker. Glad for solitude in the elevator, Steve felt the same guilt he always felt when someone congratulated him for making progress with Nate, treating it as if it were an amazing feat. It was a milestone he hadn’t been planning to commemorate this way, if it should be commemorated at all. He should have left it as a missed opportunity, instead of dragging it onto the Normandy as if it meant something.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Cortez, but Commander Shepard would like to see you in the conference room,” EDI announced.

Steve groaned in his throat, tossing his tool kit into the shuttle bay as the doors opened and waiting for the elevator to repeat the ascent to the crew deck. EDI was being formal, which meant this was business, and that was rarely good news. Steve’s apprehension only grew when he saw the rest of the crew, even Joker, already assembled. Steve nudged James as he joined him, nodding to a smiling Liara as she whispered with Shepard and Kasumi.

“No idea, man,” James admitted under his breath, looking to Kaidan hopefully, who shook his head in shared confusion.

“At least it’s good news?” Steve decided. Garrus shrugged on James’ other side and Jack snorted doubtfully, watching the trio suspiciously from across the room.

Kasumi nodded, tugging her hood around her head proudly and slipping back amongst the crew, tucking herself in Grunt’s shadow while Liara stayed standing with Shepard. Shepard swept her gaze over the crew, taking a quick tally and stopping on Steve.

“Cortez, are the repairs to the shuttle finished?” Shepard asked.

“Since the Citadel,” Steve nodded. “Well, depends on where we’re headed, if it needs modifications to deal with the atmosphere or climate.”

“It should be fine,” Shepard said. “Everyone else, prep light armor and weapons, this should be a quick grab.”

“Infiltration?” Garrus motioned to Kasumi.

“Ambush and subdue,” Shepard corrected, looking to Liara from confirmation. “But we need numbers, so everyone’s going.”

“Wasn’t Nasurn supposed to be an easy ‘ambush and subdue?’” Jack reminded cynically.

“We’re ahead of them this time,” Liara assured, smiling as softly as always with a predatory glint that didn’t match. “They’re trying to cut a deal with one of my sources.”

Jack laughed sharply, her shoulders shaking beside Grunt’s approving chuckle, Joker’s devious grin, and Kaidan’s uneasy step away from Jack’s harsh mirth. James punched the air, crossing his arms when Garrus looked at him in in bemusement. The mood of the meeting lifted for the better as Liara gave the good news they needed, and Jack’s laughter wound down to a less tense silence.

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked you this much,” Jack praised Liara. “Nice to finally see the Big Bad Broker in action.”

“Thank you,” Liara’s good mood didn’t even dip at Jacks backhanded praise. “If we can be ready, we have a real shot this time.”

“Oh, we’ll be ready,” Garrus assured, and James snickered as Garrus unconsciously reached for the empty sniper holster on his back. “That Agent Carolina owes me a shot or two, and I liked those odds.”

“It would be better to take them alive, see if they’ll give us information on the rest of the operation,” Shepard cautioned, and Garrus sighed in disappointment.

“Anyone else notice they’re named after the states?” James asked, shrugging as the aliens all shook their heads. “Maine, Wyoming, York, Carolina…could have picked better nicknames.”

“Maybe it’s a pro-human ritual,” Tali suggested scornfully.

“American, it seems,” Kasumi added.

“Oh, great, another Cerberus,” Joker groaned, guiltily dropping his voice at the end of his statement to soften the observation.

“Maybe not far off, with their interest in science,” Kaidan added, wincing apologetically when Joker scowled at him defensively. 

“Wonder if that means there are 50 of the _pendejos_ ,” James elaborated, squirming at the old tension rising to the surface between Kaidan and Joker. 

“Unlikely, given the numbers we’ve seen,” Mordin spoke up, tugging irritably at the bandage on his shoulder. “But theoretically possible.”

The mood sank again, Liara’s pride dimming as they thought over one of James’ rare helpful observations. Shepard’s fingers picked at her sleeves under crossed arms in a nervous habit, and James sat on the edge of the table gloomily for spoiling the good news, accepting Jack’s punch to his shoulder without dodging. Joker and Kaidan sighed in unison, Joker rolling his eyes and softening his glower at Kaidan while the crew thought.

“We don’t get answers by speculating,” Garrus reminded, nodding to Liara. “If there’s fifty, we use the others to find them, and take them out.”

“Exactly,” Kaidan was quick to agree. “Liara’s given us a chance. Now we have to use it.”

“Good,” Shepard declared energetically. “Make sure everything is running smoothly, we leave when Liara has everything she needs ready.”

“I can prepare while Joker and EDI get us to the Enoch System,” Liara reassured. “My agent is already prepared, I’ll inform him of our crew’s involvement.”

“I’ll have the shuttle checked again,” Steve promised, stifling his exhaustion as he made a checklist of the necessary inspections.

“And Scars and I’ll handle the armory,” James offered without having to be prompted.

Shepard nodded to them all, following Joker back to the bridge, leaving the crew to their tasks. Jack punched James one more time for good measure, stomping off to her quarters in the bottom of the ship, already baring her teeth in excitement for a fight and taking an eagerly rumbling Grunt with her. Kaidan looked after them uneasily, muttering to himself and circling in the hall as he accidentally followed Kasumi back to his old quarters. 

“Let me know if you need help,” Tali brushed Steve’s elbow. "I'll be in the engine room, checking the Normandy in case we need to make a quick escape."

Steve lied and promised to take her up on the offer, zoning out to Garrus and James discussing which weapons they would assign to each person and heading for the shuttle as soon as the elevator landed. Steve almost wished there was something to fine tune as he tested the shuttle, checking one clean test off after another, long past Garrus and James’ work ended and the ship fell quiet as the majority of the crew retired.

“Yo, Esteban,” James stuck his head into the passenger’s side without warning from the dimly lit shuttle bay. “Call it a day.”

“Am I disturbing your beauty sleep, Mr. Vega?” Steve joked, leaning back in his seat and flicking off the interior lights.

“Nah, but you could do these tests in your sleep anyway,” James said. “Or tomorrow. Or not, since I saw you do them when you finished repairing her.”

“I’m almost done. Ten more minutes, tops,” Steve promised, hopping out of the pilot seat and testing the heat of the engines.

“I stopped buying that one after a week down here,” James groaned, wandering to his corner of the bay and settling into his bunk with a resentful thump.

Steve ignored his grumbles, crawling under the shuttle and making sure the damage from the Pelican wing had been repaired. She was battle ready, if she had to be, Steve decided, patting his shuttle proudly and sinking into his desk chair to straighten his workbench. They had the upper hand now, with Liara in her element and the crew prepared and eager to settle this game of cat and mouse before the Council shifted the blame on to them again. Starting his computer, Steve checked over his shoulder, to where James was sprawled out on his bunk, his pillow over his head to block out the light of Steve’s work.

 

 

_To: Nate/Nathan_

_If it’s shouted, I’ll probably look over no matter which name you pick. Steve is fine. Cortez too, but that’s from making friends in the military. Calling me Esteban is an option which I prefer to leave as a privilege of Mr. James Vega alone, before it becomes an epidemic. James is more comfortable with the nicknames he makes up for the crew, but they’re mostly intuitive- Garrus is Scars, for example, I’m sure you get the idea. Except for Shepard, who he calls Lola, and Jack is 3B, which, please, don’t ask. James doesn’t have a partner, and wanted to ask about Tissot, but I’d advise her to let him work for a bit before she makes a move. He’s a good guy, but he tries too hard to be a Casanova, and we are trying to train him out of it. Coincidentally, Liara’s father is half krogan, and proud of it. She's tough as one, too, but you wouldn’t know she or Liara had krogan genes just by looking. Unless you asked, which I wouldn’t._

_I don’t know_ **_when_ ** _I’ll be at the Citadel next, but, I’m hoping sooner rather than later, and the rest of the crew likes the idea, as long as you’re sure you want to sign up for that. Or, we can leave them with Elliot and Tissot to avoid them trying to ‘help,’ but I’m fine with either. Since we’re asking the intrusive questions, where’d you serve, pre-Reapers? Or pre-Collectors, if you were reassigned then? Intelligence, or was that only a London assignment? You seem to go back, but London had a way of cramming a year’s worth of service into a day. Maybe this is better over a beer, before you feel as if you’re providing a service file. Then again, you might outrank me, I haven’t asked, but I should save some questions for when we’re back in the same system._

_Steve Cortez_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is mundane set up, Shadow Broker meet up to follow shortly.


	15. Chapter 15

“Are we sure we should be letting Wash run this?” South asked, turning to Carolina for an answer.

“They’re expecting Wash, so we don’t have a choice,” Carolina admitted, her bullheaded confidence getting weaker and weaker as they neared Joab’s surface.

“Thanks for the support,” Wash called back sarcastically, sitting proudly next to Four Seven Niner in the cockpit.

South pulled out her rifle to give her hands something to do as the ship started to shake from entering the planet's pull. She wasn’t looking to be supportive. Wash didn’t need anymore bloated support, this wasn’t boarding school where you got a gold star for BSing a contribution. You congratulated yourself _after_ you finished a deal, not before. That's how you got shot.

“Remember, keep your weapons concealed,” Carolina warned, hiding her harness under a rough civilian pack. “This isn’t _Omega_.”

“No kidding,” South muttered. “ _Omega_ was interesting.”

“One word for it,” Carolina grumbled. “Maine, how’s Sig doing?”

Maine growled neutrally, snapping his gun in the corner and holding up his wrist. It was subtle, the orange stain of Sigma flickering under the glow of the omnitool that accompanied Sigma’s bodiless response: “Maine’s physical condition has returned to acceptable levels. I expect no malfunctions in communication.”

Carolina nodded, and Maine twisted his arm irritably as his omnitool faded to the customary gold and then out. It had taken some convincing on Carolina’s part, but the Director had finally caved to her request that Sigma stay with Maine for the sake of communication. South knew that the request was for Carolina’s peace of mind, since Maine could take care of himself without much negotiation; it was making sure Carolina could keep track of him that was the problem. So far, Maine hadn’t used Sigma to speak anymore than usual, and Sigma had strict orders to stay out of sight. What a waste of an AI, South scoffed.

“Good God, colony life is revolting,” Wyoming sniffed at his threadbare jacket in distaste.

“Better business,” South disagreed, wrapping a scarf that had been worn smooth around her neck to keep the rough collar away from her skin.“Less regulation, as long as you call it food or farming equipment, people won’t ask questions.”

“Ah, stupidity,” Wyoming nodded. “That does decrease one’s worry about guns.”

“So does the location,” South snorted. “What the fuck is anyone going to steal from here? Potatoes and dirt?”

“People,” Wyoming said wisely. “Plenty of hearty stock just waiting to be relocated to another mindless job for someone else’s profit.”

“Then you’ll be shackled or dead before worrying about mysterious crates will do you any good,” South informed, tucking her blonde hair under a simple cap.

“Which side are you talking from?” Wyoming sneered, copying South and popping his collar to protect his neck.

“You’ll stick out as a douche like that,” South warned, smacking Wyoming in the face with a pair of rough gloves as she pushed her way into the cockpit for an easier target.

Watching Four Seven Niner swat Wash’s hand away from her precious controls, South tugged her cap straight and willed the shuttle to land faster. As much as North complained about having to answer to someone for the first time in years, South was counting the seconds until this job proved worth it. She had joined for the generous benefits package, and all she had gotten so far was worse food and board than usual, jobs that didn’t yield any profit she saw, and a brother who was even more of a nagging pain in the neck than usual. The only one worse off than her was Connie, and that only made South feel worse.

“Carolina, why’re we landing so damn far out on this dirt ball?” Four Seven Niner called back, glancing between the gritty front window and her digital map. 

“Ask Wash!” Carolina called, leaving Four Seven Niner eyeing Wash suspiciously as he ran calculations.

“Agent Washington, did you pick a cornfield as a landing pad on purpose? Or was it spontaneously stupid?” Four Seven Niner asked sweetly, frowning when nothing blipped on her radar. “Not even a scanning checkpoint, damn, the Alliance doesn’t give a shit about these places.”

“They didn’t have them before the war, like hell they’ll get them now,” Wash informed, leaning over the dashboard and checking it beside his omnitool screen. “And we’re not going to that point, let her hover.”

Four Seven Niner’s did a double take at Wash’s strong command, and even South was taken aback for a split second before she saw Wash’s mouth twitch and betray his nerves. Wash ignored both of them, typing commands into his omntitool confidently as his eyes darted over the screen, before nodding shortly and punching in a call. Four Seven Niner looked at South quizzically, quirking an eyebrow at Wash and humphing critically. South couldn’t find an insult as she watched Wash push up his sleeves, weaving a knife between his fingers testily. 

“What's taking-?” Carolina squeezed into the doorway to join them, pursing her mouth closed when Wash shushed her, nodding sharply at his glowing palm.

“You’re late,” a dry voice reverberated over Wash’s speaker. 

“Everything all set?” Wash asked, flipping the knife while he kept his voice calm.

“As agreed,” the voice said curtly. 

“Great,” Wash said. “I’ll send you the meet up point, we can make this quick.”

Wash looked at his omnitool expectantly, his teeth catching his lip for an instant in the static-filled  hush. Carolina pressed a finger to her lips when Wyoming shoved to see over her shoulder, and South caught muffled voices over the speaker. Wash was pressing their luck early, issuing commands like that.

“That wasn’t the arrangement,” the voice echoed severely. “We already agreed-“

“Come on, you know how this works,” Wash said, kicking his legs up and propping them against the dashboard nervously, oblivious to Four Seven Niner’s scorching scowl. “I’m not walking into a meeting second, only an idiot does that. We’re already waiting in the air, this way, we land at the same time, swap the credits for the crate, and fly out of here. Neutral ground, one of the few standards we have in this business, right?”

South found herself nodding in agreement, even annoyed when Four Seven Niner mimicked Wash’s jerky motions mockingly.South had always seen Wash as a kid who had managed to con the odds, hanging on to life by the tips of his fingers until North took pity on him and gave him a steady partnership. This explained how he had lasted this long- under his ignorance about species, technology, and almost everything else, Wash was hiding some street smarts. Forcing the meeting on new turf was a quick way to level the playing field, before the Shadow Broker’s source built a trap for the Freelancers to land into.

“Or,” Wash snatched the knife from falling, the catch in his voice hidden by a cold laugh of disbelief he forced out. “I keep the credits, you keep the scrap, and we’ve both wasted time.”

“You need parts more than I need a paycheck,” the voice threatened.

“Maybe. But who else is going to buy a pile of robotics these days for a price that’s worth it?” Wash’s laugh stretched into something genuine. “The Council? Good luck, but it seems like a waste to me.”

Wyoming hummed with interest, heading back to talk to Maine, and Wash dropped his legs from the dash confidently as the speaker buzzed unhappily. Four Seven Niner readied the weapons suspiciously as the voices on the speaker had a second muted argument, longer and louder this time.

“Fine,” the voice sad it as if it were a curse. “Where is this ‘neutral ground?’”

Wash chewed his lip again, looking over his shoulder at South. At least he knew when the ground was dropping out from under him, South begrudgingly admitted. South took the tight cap off, running a hand through her hair and thinking over the briefing Carolina had given them. Small colony, mostly agriculture to get the planet city ready, that didn’t leave her with many plan B’s. Wash’s knuckles cracked under the glowing speaker, making South's decision for her.

“You know the drill,” South said softly, nodding to a housing complex at the border of one of the expansive fields. “Give me options.”

Wash nodded, looking to South’s shoulder for a final call from North’s empty space. South smacked Wash in the cheek for the habit, shrugging the specter of North’s disapproval off while Wash scanned the surface below them and landed on the same block of buildings South had. 

“Looks like there’s a market in the complex to the north east,” Wash said, pinpointing the location on his map. “See you there.”

There was a pause over the speaker, and Wash’s knuckles cracked harshly again as he stared at the tool. Thank God he only had them on speaker and not video, South thought as Carolina shifted unhappily beside her and Wash’s eyes got wider as his omnitool buzzed wordlessly.

“Meeting among civilians makes a deal more delicate,” the voice informed unhappily.

“Exactly,” Wash said, a nervous smirk playing on his mouth. “So let’s make this quick. Crate, credits, simple.”

Wash closed his omnitool, exhaling slowly and grinning proudly at Carolina when he noticed her beside South. If his hair hadn’t been sticking straight up with sweat, South would have believed that had been as easy as his manic grin said.

“Nothing to it. And now you don’t have to land in a cornfield,” he admitted giddily to Four Seven Niner.

“Everyone prep for landing,” Carolina announced, tugging her jacket unhappily and leaving Wash to gloat.

Wash combed his hair flat with twitching fingers, looking at Four Seven Niner for approval and being disappointed again. Four Seven Niner brushed imaginary dirt off her shuttle dash, grumbling over the controls. South yanked the cap off her head, plonking it on Wash’s head and squashing it flat.

“When was the last time you did that without North or me to back your bullshit?” South asked, holding the hat onto Wash’s head as he tried to wriggle free.

“You _met_ me when I traded with you!!” Wash yowled, twisting South’s wrist away and throwing the hat at her, his hair sticking in all directions again.

“Yeah, but there’s trading rations for change and ammo during a war, and then there’s trading contraband in peace time, Davy,” South reminded, throwing her gloves in Wash’s face as he got up to join them in the back. “But you even had me fooled for a second there.”

“Don’t call me ‘Davy,’” Wash ordered, stumbling into his seat when the shuttle dropped. “Or I’ll start calling you ‘Sash-aaaah’ again.”

“You could try,” South challenged, calmly drawing her sidearm.

Wash stopped cold, South leaning on her knee and angling her pistol at his throat casually. South wouldn’t say she enjoyed watching the blood drain from Wash’s face as he reassessed his place in the pecking order, but unlike North, South didn’t need people to like her to enjoy their respect.She liked Wash, sure, he was easy to train and it was nice seeing him put his skills to use, but she liked him in his place and reminded who had helped get him this job. South eyed Carolina’s back where she was talking to Maine, angling the gun sideways as if inspecting for damage with the muzzle still pointed at Wash.

“Geez, _Davy_ , the safety is on, ” South laughed, tapping the useless trigger with her finger. “And besides, you still have me backing you this time. Relax.”

Wash smiled shakily, checking his hair and watching South polish the muzzle of her gun and holster it. That little adrenaline burst should keep Wash sharp. Maine stood up from his corner, the scar on his neck rippling as he cleared his throat, a flash of orange glowing up his arm before Carolina looked over just as South settled her gun in place.

“Shuttle approaching the site at 2 o’clock, every one buckle in,” Four Seven Niner ordered, easing the ship down with barely a bump.

“It’s your big moment,” South reminded Wash, pushing him in front of her as the shuttle landed with a thump and the door hissed open.

The Shadow Broker crony had followed Wash’s instructions, a shuttle touching down and calming the engines next to smaller transport shuttles bordering the market, across from Four Seven Niner’s neat landing. South stood on the threshold of the ship, watching carefully as three figures disembarked. Wyoming whistled softly, pointing to the man who had taken the lead. No younger than fifty, South guessed,  even his armor showed the years, and a cold dead eye staring out of the mass of scar tissue on right side of his face as he scanned the area. This man looked as if he’d been around the block, bombed it, and come back to pick through the skeletons for loot.

“A little old for an information dealer, eh?” Wyoming asked Maine softly, tracing the curve of the man’s scar on his own face.

“I do not have any employment or prison records matching this man’s appearance,” Sigma’s voice sounded in their ears. 

“Save your energy,” Wash advised before South could. "He's a veteran merc, or I'm a purple goose."

The man’s head snapped to look over the market, though South knew they were far out of earshot, his twisted mouth talking over his shoulder. Wash glanced at Carolina at his back, drumming his fingers in his omnitool nervously until South pinched his wrist. The mercenary stepped back as the group neared the clearing around the shuttle. Over his shoulder, a fourth figure leaned down, letting the bodyguard speak in his ear as he carefully stepped to the ground, tugging a hood back from his face.

“Well, now I don’t know who is uglier,” Wyoming’s insult was barely audible.

The drell straightened his back from listening to his body guard as the Freelancers neared them, his wide dark eyes staring steadily out from the sandy gold, deep green, and purple scales covering his proud features. His slender hands moved slowly, keeping the mercenary prowling at his side when the brute rested a hand on the lovingly worn gun at his side. Wash stared back at the drell, only kept moving by South’s hand pressing into his back and Carolina’s shoulder behind his. South had dealt with drell before, and once she had learned that all of them stared, she had stopped being unnerved by the penetrating gaze. Mostly. 

“Better to ask which one of us is more deaf,” the mercenary bodyguard grated beside the drell, flicking his eyes over Wyoming disdainfully, snarling gutturally back at Maine’s rumble with a fresh glare of hostility. “At least this one looks the part.” 

“I assume you’re ‘Daniel,’” the drell’s voice vibrated even without the interference from a speaker, his eyes fixed on Wash. 

“Yeah. I didn’t get a name for you,” Wash blurted in response, losing what good credit he had gained with South that day.

“My name is irrelevant for this transaction,” the drell seemed unfazed. “I am merely an extension of my employer.”

“So why do you need his?” Carolina asked .

“I don’t,” the drell’s voice sharpened, but his lids blinked placidly. “It was the name that our common associate gave me.”

“We’re more interested in who has the credits,” the mercenary added. “Give me those, and I’ll call you Goddamn Prince Albert if it gets you to shut up.”

“You’re dating yourself, old timer,” Wyoming chortled.

“It’s a crime we’re from the same rainy rock,” the mercenary's sneered venomously. 

Wyoming chortled, and the mercenary's look could have curdled milk, scornful loathing making the cloudy right eye shine. South had met krogans with sweeter dispositions. This mercenary was a show of force, and that irked her. The drell sighed, stepping aside to let the turian and the other human drag the crate to sit by his feet.

“As promised,” the drell assured, ignoring the stand off between his muscle and Wyoming. “The price isn’t negotiable.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Carolina interjected, and Wash and South winced in unison for her amateur attitude. You always negotiated, to show you weren’t a pushover.

The drell nodded, slouching behind the humans as the curious settlers started to notice him at the edge of their market. The mercenary grunted, sending a pair of children scurrying away from whispering and pointing. Leaning back into the shadows of the shuttle door, the drell nodded to the mercenary, who held out his hand on cue.

“Credits, crate, y’said,” he growled. “Straight forward.”

Wash nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the credit chit. This wasn’t coming cheap, South knew, watching the small chip bounce in Wash’s palm and then fly into the the mercenary's hand. Holding up the chit decerningly, the mercenary handed it to the drell, keeping his eyes on the Maine suspiciously.

“First,” Carolina hesitated as everyone around her stiffened as her omnitool began to glow, the bodyguard reaching for his gun. “Before your Broker decides to add us to his web.”

The mercenary kept his palm resting by his gun, suspiciously watching Carolina’s omitool beep as Carolina ran a basic scan. The drell stood by calmly, bunching his mouth at the impatient mercenary.  At least Carolina had some common sense, South watched the screen over her shoulder. They were already on one leash, she didn't need the company switching management and all of the Shadow Broker's minions muscling in.

“Agent South Dakota,” South jerked her coat away from her neck to hide her jump at Sigma’s sudden interjection in her ear. “Agent Maine has noticed movement around the complex. He believes we are being monitored.”

South saw Wyoming's jaw twitch across from Carolina, shooting a glance at Maine, who hadn’t changed his defensive posture since they had arrived. Maine was still watching the mercenary, stretching the scar across his neck as he cracked his neck to the right and growled threateningly when the mercenary glowered back.Wash was starting to sweat from his nerves, but blessedly stayed silent.

South eyed Carolina’s scan with one eye, picking at the cap and yanking it off in a show of discomfort. Ruffling her hair out, South tried to see over Maine’s back to the right of the market. There was movement all around them, with children running around adults, adults gossiping and bartering for supplies at crammed stalls, livestock being dragged into place. South combed out her hair, wrapping it quickly and tilting her head to tuck it back into the cap, shooting a smile at the sneering bodyguard. 

There. A flash of sunlight off a someone moving through the square, obscured by the crowd in the next instant. Wyoming tugged his mustache, stretching it out to the left and glancing at South out of the corner of his eye. And, another flash, from over the drell’s shoulder this time, something clean, sharp, and polished in a colony of dirt, plants, and rust.

“Looks fine to me,” South grumbled to Carolina, flapping her jacket noisily and slipping her hand into the pocket. “Let’s get off this dump before the dirt sticks.”

“Of course,” the drell interjected, shifting back into the shuttle when colonists got close. “However, the Broker has a proposition.”

Maine growled, shifting his feet and pacing away two steps, freezing when the mercenary fixed him in a forbidding scowl. The crowd was starting to shift, settlers glancing towards the group, then at each other, moving away from the space around the shuttle. South saw Carolina's posture straighten suddenly, and lashed her hand out, jerking Wash back by the tail of his coat just as Wash jumped, squawking, “What the-“

“We didn’t come here for a long term relationship, we just want the goods. Credits, crate, simple,” South reminded Wash and the drell loudly, pushing the flash grenade up her sleeve behind Wash’s back and seeing Maine tuck a hand under the back of his coat.

“It’s better to hear the Broker out,” the mercenary suggested, his hand still resting on his hip just above his gun.

“It wouldn’t interfere with your own work,” the drell assured, calmly, slowly, and too amicably to Wash. “It’s merely an offer for further cooperation.”

“Yeah…um,” South saw Wash’s eyes fix over the drell’s head at another reflection of light through the shifting crowd. “Sure, if you have more scrap, give us a call.”

“Evasion will be difficult in the crowd, in close quarters,” Sigma’s voice warned in South’s ear.“I could overload-“

Maine coughed, and South hooked her thumb into the pin of the grenade, watching a pair of children stop playing and whisper too themselves before being dragged towards the houses by newly attentive adults. The crowd was thinning, settlers whispering to each other and drifting toward the shelter of the buildings, betraying more flashes as the sun caught off the crest of a turian helm. Close, South thought wrathfully, looking to a cluster of settlers huddle and then burst apart obediently. If she had her full armory, she could make this a contest. She would make do.

“Excellent,” the drell overlooked Wash’s hesitation, and South saw the mercenary slide his hand to the holster of his battle worn rifle. “Once we can reach you directly, this will be much easier.”

“I thought the Shadow Broker had tabs on everyone,” South said as the pin clicked out of place. 

“Cooperation makes that easier,” the drell shrugged, fluffing his coat in a show of impatience. “I can accept your answer for them, of course.”

“Ok, ok,” Wash nodded, stepping back into South’s arm and watching the bodyguard with wide eyes. “Carolina? You’re, um, you’re the boss, it’s a pretty sweet deal?”

South could feel Wash shaking against her arm as he waited for a signal, watching Carolina study the crate and close her omnitool, nodding approvingly. The mercenary slid his hand down, his fingers catching on the trigger of his gun. He hadn't made it this long by being completely stupid.

“Yeah, this seems pretty good,” Carolina nodded tapping her foot against the crate. “Let’s do it.”

South yanked Wash back as she threw the grenade, shielding her face in his back and dragging them to the ground as Wyoming grenade burst an instant before the second blinding flash and the crack of a gun. South could feel the vibration of Wash shouting, his voice lost under the chorus of screams and pounding feet as the tension in the marketplace broke. 

“Damn it, what just happened?!” Four Seven Niner’s voice screeched in their ears.

“Get out of here,” Carolina ordered, real in one ear and buzzing in South’s other side. 

“But-“

“Not a suggestion!” Carolina shouted. “We’ll…figure something out.”

“Fuck that, picking you up is one my _one fucking job,”_ Four Seven Niner swore. “Get your stupid asses to the field, get ready for a drive by pick up.”

South peered through her eyelids, pushing Wash off of her in the flying dust and scrambling feet. The drell was nowhere to be seen, no doubt cowering in the safety of the shuttle. The mercenary was spitting with fury, his narrowed eyes streaming from the shock of light, his gun pointed, but not firing, in their direction. South scrambled into action, grabbing Wyoming’s hand as he pulled her up, dragging her away from the stampede of people.

“Get up,” South yanked Wash up by the back of his jacket. “Get up, get-“

“Get the crate,” Wash groaned, crawling away from South towards the crate.

“This is where we _run!_ ” Wyoming corrected.

“Then what’s the point?!” Wash shouted.

Wash wrenched away from South, pushing through the crowd struggling to get past, tugging at the crate insistently. Damn kid was too used to living off the dregs he got, South lamented, going to drag Wash away herself. Wyoming snarled, his mouth open to swear at Wash just as Maine shoved past him, seizing the other end of the crate and pulling Wash towards the left edge of the square.

“Crate, no crate, just go!” Carolina ordered, taking the handle of the crate from Maine when he turned to scan the crowd.

South didn't waste her breath arguing, stumbling after Carolina as she dragged the crate, with Wash still attached, through the tide of people, with Maine bowling people out of their way. There were no flashes of metal now, but South could hear commands being thrown, voices certain and steady over the mess of confused screams. Shepard truly was the darling of the galaxy, the festering bitch.

At least Wash had surpassed South’s expectations in one respect, giving them the camouflage of chaos as they ran and South the options she wanted.  South could hardly tell friend from obstacle as she followed the tide of people fleeing from the criminals and authorities in equal measure, holding on to children and what goods they could carry. South had lost Maine and Wyoming, barely keeping sight of Wash being dragged after Carolina as they squeezed through the streets by the close knit houses, inching towards the open space of the field.

“We’ll never make it with that damn crate,” Wyoming crashed to her side, throwing someone out of his way. “It can’t be worth this.”

“Our paycheck is,” South reminded, looking around her for a new distraction. 

“Any better ideas?” Wyoming begrudgingly asked, glancing over his shoulder. 

South dug through her pockets, plucking at her pistol and leaving it holstered when a man shouldered by her, shaking her head when Wyoming reached for his gun. There was no way to get a clear shot in this crowd, and South drew one of her few lines at shooting colonists. Poor bastards had enough problems without someone wasting bullets on them.

“Ok, I have…two more flash grenades,” South admitted. “What do you have?”

“One,” Wyoming said, twisting his gun in the holster pleadingly. 

“Two,” Sigma interjected in their ears, heralding Maine's approach.

“Great,” South pulled the pin in her first, lobbing it into the center of the market.

Tearing off her cap, South tossed it to Maine in the fresh wave of panic, already losing Wyoming as he pulled his jacket up, ducking into the crowd of colonists. Maine shoved the cap on, prowling through the crowd around Carolina and Wash, casually tossing a grenade over his shoulder before he blended into the panicked run. Wyoming’s grenade exploded to their far right, the crowd pushing Maine and Wyoming back to South as they veered to get away from the explosions.

“Like hell, school boy.”

Wyoming shouted as the mercenary clubbed him in the back with the butt of his rifle, his eyes still bloodshot and watering as he yanked Wyoming’s arm. Wyoming twisted, smashing his head into the veteran’s nose and kneeing his elbow, forcing the bodyguard’s shot into the ground instead of his stomach. Spit from the mercenary's curse joined blood spouting from Wyoming's split lip as the veteran head-butted Wyoming while he was still reeling from his own attack.

“They didn’t say you _all_ had to be breathing,” the veteran twisted Wyoming’s collar, cutting off Wyoming’s air.

Wyoming gurgled, shoving the muzzle of the rifle up and hooking his leg around the veteran's knee. The veteran released the trigger of the gun as the two fell to the ground, each struggling to pin the other. South groaned, glancing at Wash and Carolina pulling away, and Wyoming grappling with the veteran for his gun.

“Fuck me,” South groaned. “Maine, stay sharp.”

“Of course,” Sigma assured in Maine’s stead.

South tossed her grenade thoughtfully, shoving it back into her pocket and weaving around the crowd. The veteran was sitting on Wyoming’s neck, straining to reach his fallen gun and keep an increasingly blue Wyoming still at the same time. South lurched for the gun, a knee glancing off her eye before the gun spun away under a foot.

“Rehg?!” Wyoming choked, the veins in his neck throbbing under his skin.

South crawled through the crowd, staying back when she caught the veteran looking. The mercenary reached for his belt, digging his knee into Wyoming’s throat as South got within range. She was really starting to hate these guys. South ducked away, hearing Wyoming’s strangled yowl.

“Give me a _second_ ,” South growled to herself, grabbing onto the coat of the nearest person.

South yanked, flinging the unsuspecting man off balance and into the struggle. The mercenary roared as the stunned man slipped foward, crashing down on top of him and Wyoming. Wyoming kicked out, savagely shoving the struggling man on top of the mercenary and pushing himself up in the same motion. South grabbed his hand, dragging him forward before he had his bearings, ordering, “Keep up, school boy.”

“ _Fuck…._ ** _you_ …**” Wyoming wheezed, squeezing South’s hand and catching up in his next gasp.

South let go of Wyoming as fresh screams erupted, people tumbling sideways from a blast of biotic power that made South’s skin prickle. Maine snatched Wyoming from her, snarling harshly above the noise and leading both of them to the thinning buildings. South could see the open field, and the wind of the Pelican’s engines spraying dirt, the sight of escape fueling a new desperation to get away from opponents she couldn't see. Digging through the crush of people with renewed energy, South refused to panic as the ground rumbled under her feet and she lost Wyoming.

The ground was hard as South fell, limbs buffeting her back and sides as settlers fell beside her. Some naive soul grabbed her arm to help her, their hand catching her sleeve as another biotic pulse sent her bouncing over the ground and tore her from their grip. South clawed at the ground for support before she was yanked up and slammed onto her back, the air rushing out of her chest on impact.

“You're just like every other soldier,” Jack noted as she approached, dragging South toward her while South dug for her gun. “Take away your shiny toys and you just _break_.”

South fired, and Jack hissed angrily, bowling South back in a tide of dirt and energy, South’s gun torn from her hand by the force. Jack ignored the colonists caught in her wake, boosting herself forward as South tried to crawl backwards.

“But I don't need armor to fuck you up,” Jack panted, blue energy gathering around her as she recharged.

“Bite me, bitch,” South rattled, pulling the last grenade's pin and throwing it into Jack's face.

Jack screeched, her startled pulse radiating out, knocking the grenade wide and South back into the open field. South’s ears went numb, blood running down her neck where she had cut it on the debris and her ribs stabbing with each breath as she landed on her rifle. South pushed herself up on shaking legs, wishing North was perched somewhere with his sniper rifle as Jack appeared through the crowd.

“Safety is _off_ ,” Jack snarled, the air around her starting to crackle and make South’s hair stand on end.

South didn't know she could be glad to see Shepard's other minions when Mordin and Garrus appeared, finally coming to claim their rabid cur. Jack ignored them, calm in the confusion and heading towards South steadily.

“Potential for casualties extremely high!!” Mordin squealed, Garrus barreling for Jack as the ground cracked around her. “And against advisement!!!”

“Exactly,” Jack confirmed eagerly.

“Jack, no!!!” Garrus roared a warning as Jack flared, tearing up the earth and shaking the people around her.

South’s heart stopped as Jack exploded, wondering if the accompanying scream came from her or the biotic as the explosion kicked, knocking Jack, Mordin, and Garrus backwards in a haze of blue and a flash of fire. Jack did scream as she hit the ground, the tension in the air around her breaking. South willed herself to move, her clothes sticking to the cold sweat flooding over her instead of a crushing death.

“There are more approaching,” Sigma warned through the rush in her ears. “Please run.”

Maine’s hand latched onto South’s shoulder before Sigma's command had faded, lifting her up by her coat and carrying her while South tried to regain her feet. Maine pulled her on, jerking South forward when she tried to look back at Shepard’s army. South ignored the agony in her lungs, falling into step with Maine as he started to sprint for the circling shuttle. Four Seven Niner was as good as her word, keeping a shuttle at bay with a hale of gunfire as she skidded into position, the Pelican's door gaping open.

Wash’s hand was waiting to grab South’s as Maine threw her over the ship's step, flinging himself after her and grabbing Carolina’s arm for support as the Pelican spurred forward in response to Carolina’s harsh command the instant South’s feet hit the floor. The agents spilled to the floor, holding on to the walls and seats as the Pelican climbed straight up, shaking as the engines bucked and the pressure climbed.

With a howl, the Pelican jumped, the pressure popping and the engines quieting as they left Joab’s atmosphere and glided into open space. South stayed still, blood pooling in her scarf and her sides shuddering, forcing herself to look up when Wash gasped humorlessly, “That was worse than the old days.”

“Yeah,” South coughed, sitting up, unwrapping her scarf and pressing it in a ball to her stinging neck. “But did we get your precious crate?”

Wash nodded, pointing to the belly of the ship, a hint of pride stealing over his panicked expression as he admitted, “You gave us a pretty good lead.”

“Well, at least you didn’t fuck that up,” South groaned, leaning her aching head on her knees and hugging her battered ribs. Winning had used to actually fell good, she mused. This jumble of scrap had better build her one hell of an upgrade.

Carolina was already up, clapping Wash strongly on the back on her way to the cockpit. Wyoming was dragging himself to a seat, swallowing queasily and gingerly prodding at the angry bruises on his neck. Maine kicked the cap South had given him out from under his feet, wiping blood off his nose and gurgling in annoyance. Wash got up quietly when South shrugged him off, reporting to Four Seven Niner’s call from the cockpit and leaving South aching on the shuttle floor.

“Agent South Dakota,” Sigma appeared on the floor in front of her, standing in Maine’s shadow as he joined them, snorting back his bloody nose. “Do you require medical attention?”

“I think he broke my trachea,” Wyoming rattled pettily.

“I can wait, the medigel is all yours,” South rolled her eyes, picking herself up carefully, sneering at Wyoming. “I fucking hate biotics. What about you?”

“No significant injuries,” Sigma assured, looking up at Maine.

“What happened?” Carolina came to check in with Wash, giving Maine and then South a doubtful once over.

“Yeah,” Wash handed South a pack of medigel without asking, while Wyoming took one from the kit in the cabin. “She was building up enough steam to level the entire goddamn town, and then…she zapped herself out.”

South tried to shrug, dropping her arms quickly over twanging ribs. Breathing shallowly, South quietly opened the medigel, bumping elbows with Wash. Wash took the kit back, silently helping South peel off her coat and holding it without comment when South took the medigel back. Maine sighed heavily, and Sigma materialized on his shoulder, looking to Carolina obediently.

“Agent Maine thought it necessary, to prevent Agent South Dakota’s capture or...demise,” Sigma explained softly. 

South struggled to feel offended through her ringing headache while Wyoming looked up from where he was smearing gel on his neck, and Wash fiddled with her coat fussily as Sigma hovered in front of them, looking around the circle curiously at the silence. South hoped Maine wasn't expecting a 'thank you,' her pride had suffered enough of a beating today.

“Agent Maine thought _what_ necessary?” Carolina asked, directing the cold question at Maine over Sigma’s head.

Maine growled back, standing his ground in the face of Carolina’s temper. Wyoming wiped off his hands, coming to join them and study Sigma, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. Wash opened his mouth to say something, snapping it closed and trying again, finally closing it without making a sound and contenting himself to fold South's jacket and throw it aside. South felt her skin prickle again as Sigma stayed floating, looking at Carolina.

“Malfunctions in biotic implants are extremely common,” Sigma assured, his eyes staying on Carolina’s face when she jerked to look at him. “There will be nothing to arouse suspicion of my involvement.”

Carolina’s eyes widened, and Wash snapped his knife open to flip in his hand. Sigma flashed his eyes in the direction of the sound, then back to gaze at Carolina. South didn’t know what he was waiting for, patiently anticipating Carolina’s verdict despite the ringing silence. 

“Well, _damn_ , Mai..Sig...damn,” Wash finally breathed, looking at Sigma with fresh awe.

Sigma cocked his head at Wash’s exclamation, then returned to looking at Carolina, quivering when Maine rasped harshly behind him. South winced as a giddy snort punched her ribs, joined by Wyoming’s cold chuckle.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Carolina reminded slowly.

“Understood, Agent Carolina,” Sigma nodded, drifting back towards Maine and adding as an observation: “I was merely assisting Agent Maine.”

Carolina sucked her teeth sharply, following Sigma’s path as he shrank back into Maine’s omnitool and fell silent. Wyoming scratched his healing neck, drifting back to his seat and taking off his rough jacket as if nothing had happened. Wash squirmed, starting to fidget like a jilted child as Sigma stole his mission. South forced down another snicker, shuffling over to a seat and letting Wash scuttle after her.

“At least one of them is useful,” South sighed as she sat down, too sore to be fazed by Carolina’s sour grimace at Maine’s back as he skulked to the back of the ship, his orange omnitool still fading from his wrist. 


	16. Chapter 16

“This isn’t what I was contracted for,” Zaeed announced bitterly, looking over the settlers struggling to rebuild their market in the fading light. “I thought this was going to be a quick job.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be a bodyguard,” Liara observed from where she was monitoring Feron. “That was the central part of our deal.”

Jack tucked herself in her corner of wreckage, hiding behind Zaeed from Shepard and the noise and bustle drilling into her ears. Feron leaned on his knee where he sat in the shelter of the shuttle, still getting over the blinding flash of light and and keeping away from the frightened crowd. Getting up, Zaeed rattled the gun at his hip, strolling towards Liara slowly.

“Is he still breathing? Got all his limbs? Walking, talking?” Zaeed examined Feron lazily and rolling his good eye to look at Liara. “Then I did my job, sweetheart.”

“Strictly speaking, yes,” Feron admitted, looking at Zaeed with resigned tolerance. “With your usual consideration and forethought.”

“See? He’s satisfied,” Zaeed chuckled smugly, coming back to sit next to Jack on the remains of a trade stall.

Liara stuck out her lip, her disapproval palpable as she gently dabbed medigel around Feron’s irritated eyes.Feron sighed softly, sitting through the treatment amicably before getting up and brushing himself off as soon as Liara’s back was turned. He might have been impressive in his prime, before Liara had clipped his wings to assuage her own guilt.

“I haven’t been swindled like that…ever,” Feron lamented, sitting on the shuttle step and propping his elbows on his knees again. “And they were younger than I expected, I was hoping to recognize remnants of an older organization. This one seems entirely new.”

“I was afraid of that,” Liara sighed, coming to sit by Feron and sulk.

“They’re not bad though,” Zaeed continued more loudly as Shepard approached from trying to run repairs. “Almost insulted they didn’t recruit me.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack grumbled, stretching to show her ease when she saw Shepard glance in her direction.

Liara wasn’t the only one who was displeased, Jack looked out from under her brows as Garrus walked by, marching to help straighten a leaning vegetable stand.Jack had decided that Garrus’ hale of curses had been directed at the disappearing Pelican, and that she would enjoy the silent treatment while it lasted by staying out of his way. Mordin was nowhere to be seen. He had just stared at Jack until she had walked away, blood from his reopened wound dripping through his jacket and into the settling dust. Zaeed was a mixed blessing, putting Kaidan, Vega, Liara, and Cortez on edge, but keeping them away from Jack in the process. Shepard stood in the center, keeping a sullen peace between Zaeed and the military, but it was already starting to fray.

“Jack,” Shepard said, still watching repairs when Jack looked up. “They need help clearing wreckage from the far side, go help Vega and Grunt.”

Jack slid off of her seat, slinking away from Zaeed’s ”Tough luck,” and keeping her distance from clucking colonists and Shepard’s air of frustration. That blonde bitch should be jelly, and they should be squeezing the others for information right now. She would have finished this if Garrus hadn’t blustered in. And her charge hadn’t backfired, Jack massaged the sizzling sensation at the base of her skull.

“Jack.”

Jack grit her teeth, turning on her heel before she had to suffer Kaidan chasing after her. The older biotic handed Tali a crate of supplies, approaching Jack slowly and craning his neck to look her over. Jack turned to keep him in front of her, hoping to scare him off with a scowl as he got within arms’ length.

“Shepard’s already got me on clean up duty,” Jack said, trying to drift away towards the stupidity of Vega and the welcomed apathy of Grunt.

“I heard,” Kaidan shot down the evasion. “How’s your implant?”

Burning like a son of a bitch, Jack kept to herself as she bounced her shoulders. Kaidan knit his brows, confused or disappointed. Jack jerked her shoulders again for an explanation, studying the sky angrily when Kaidan continued, “What happened? I’ve never seen a biotic shoot…inward.”

“If Garrus hadn’t fucking jumped me, we’d be mopping up those assholes, but I overcharged it,” Jack said flippantly. “It’s not the first time I’ve shorted out an implant.”

Standard implants weren’t designed to support Jack’s extreme biotics, and she had had them short out or malfunction from the surge before, with similar fluctuations in her biotics. This was the first time her biotics had turned against her and the implant had burned, but Kaidan, or anyone else, didn’t need to know that.

“You should have Mordin examine you,” Kaidan warned, adding before Jack could protest, “Nothing invasive. We don’t want to shift a damaged implant.”

“I’m not wasting my time,” Jack chafed at Kaidan’s superior tone. “I know how my biotics work, and I’ve read the manuals on implants.”

“Then you know the risks,” Kaidan wouldn’t budge, crawling under Jack’s skin along with the headache. 

“And I’ve never had a problem,” Jack retorted pointedly. “They didn’t spend all that time making me to have me malfunction from a biotic bump.”

“At least let Mordin-“

Jack’s headache kicked, and she had Kaidan wrapped in a biotic field before she thought, lifting him off the ground to keep him at a distance. Kaidan stayed still, judging the distance to the ground and pushing out against Jack’s field as it constricted around him in response to her anger. She hated the look Kaidan was giving her, that mask of concern and knowing annoyance, as if he was helping her.

“I’m _not_ one of your students,” Jack informed him coldly. “Get out of my face.”

“Shepard’s orders,” Kaidan shot back, a forbidding edge to his voice. "Now, _let go_."

Kaidan pushed out against Jack’s tightening hold, and Jack dropped him with a hiss as her implant vibrated. Jack backed away from Kaidan as he approached, keeping her biotics charged without touching him. Kaidan kept his barrier up suspiciously, and Jack sneered in disdain, bringing up her own to make a point.

“Then tell Shepard I don’t need a fucking check up,” Jack suggested, adding when Kaidan tried to interrupt, “Not all of us are defective, _Major_.” 

Kaidan faltered, old pain flashing across his face for the insult. Jack forced herself to fade her barrier slowly, turning her back on Kaidan’s silence. That should keep him off her back for at least a day or two. She didn’t need Kaidan trying to act like her friend, brother, caretaker, or anything else he had in mind, or pretending that their biotics were in the same league. Jack kicked a stray rock, wincing as it knocked harshly against the ground, wishing Kaidan made for a feistier punching bag.

She took her time getting to the specific pile of junk Grunt was bulldozing out of the way. Jack paced to look busy, carefully picking through splinters and fruit residue. She’d probably done these people a favor, Jack reasoned bitterly, tossing an armful into Grunt's accumulated heap. Now they had an excuse to renovate this dump.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, watch the ears, ok bud?” Vega shouted, jogging up to Jack with a boy on his shoulders, tipping his head back when the little boy yanked on his head enthusiastically. “Augh, you got me.”

“How are you helping?” Jack asked cattily, scrubbing juice off of her hands. “We’re not here to play.”

“Little guy lost his folks in the mess,” Vega reasoned, bouncing the kid on his shoulders. “Figured it was safer to get him out of the way.”

“And have you _found_ …”

Jack trailed off, drifting to Vega’s other side as Garrus stomped by. The turian paused, throwing to Vega, “Tali’s setting up a meet up point on the far shuttle pad, see if his mother is there.”

“Got it,” Vega confirmed.“How’re the colonists lookin’?”

“Handful of eye injuries from the grenades, lots of bruises and scratches from the stampede, and one man got Zaeed’s bullet in his foot, but nothing fatal,” Garrus ignored Jack peeking at him. “It came close to being a lot worse.”

Garrus looked up as Shepard called, shouldering by Jack and continuing on without a word. Vega looked between Jack and Garrus, stepping away from Jack as she got abnormally close to hide behind his bulk.

“You might want to apologize for that,” Vega suggested. 

“Why the hell would I do that?” Jack asked, picking a splinter from her skin. 

“Uh, you threw him and Motormouth a good eight feet with that blast?” Vega reminded. “That’ll piss just about anyone off.”

“Let him be pissed off,” Jack shrugged.“Mordin isn’t being a bitch about it.”

“Yeeeaaaah, but I don’t think Scars’ll let you nearly totaling a block of civilians go so easily. Apologize how, he might not go Archangel on your aaa…butt later,” Vega looked up at the toddler clutching his ears to steer. “It might cool Shepard off, too.”

“Shouldn’t you be taking that thing to the lost and found?” Jack snapped. 

Vega grimaced, tilting his head away as the child yanked on his hair. Jack forced a snicker, kicking at the pile of wreckage and putting distance between herself and Vega now that Garrus was safely out of range.

“Fine, your funeral,” Vega sighed, sliding the kid into a piggyback ride. “Ok, let’s get you home before I’m bald, little man.”

Jack flicked Vega off behind his back, returning to work with Grunt before anyone else tried to chip in and pretend to be helpful. Even Grunt was eyeing her, already fuming from missing the fight and letting the mercenaries get away. 

“What do you want?” Jack snapped at him, wondering how much lower she could sink with _Grunt_ judging her.

“You should have just shot her,” Grunt growled critically, tossing aside a beam with a lazy shrug. “Instead of wasting time with all that…stuff.”

“Fuck off,” Jack spat.

Jack threw aside her latest armful of junk, deciding to seek solitude in the back streets by the buildings where she had lost the agent in the first place. Leaning against the wall, Jack pressed the cool concrete to the back of her neck to numb the throbbing. This fuck up wasn’t her fault. Shepard was going to have to stop trying to maneuver around these assholes and go for the throat one of these days, Jack sank to sit on the ground to be smaller and less visible. 

Ignoring any spasms from her better judgment, Jack stayed in her huddle as the shadows lengthened, until the market had cleared and she heard Joker start to warm the Normandy’s engines. They hadn’t even tried to find her, Jack realized, slinking up the boarding ramp while Shepard was distracted with Feron and Zaeed. Good. People were just an excuse for a bigger headache.

“Hey,” Vega called, jacking his thumb over his shoulder and already retreating to keep Jack at a distance. “Shepard wants us in the conference room for the debriefing.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in a minute,” Jack said.

“Jack!” Shepard ordered from down the corridor, ushering Vega into the conference room before her and waiting for Jack. “I want everyone in the conference room, let's go.”

Shepard raised one eyebrow expectantly, staying at the door until Jack reluctantly obeyed. Slouching past Shepard, Jack took shelter beside Zaeed at the far end of the table. It felt like a trial, everyone shooting glances at Jack, most of them angry or annoyed. Feron stood beside Liara at the front, his face back to calculating acceptance of their failure, and even he blinked his inner lids at Jack irritably. Mordin sat by the head of the table, his arm in a sling, the only one who ignored Jack completely. It was insulting, being ignored by the inquisitive salarian.

“So,” Shepard sounded tired as she took her place by Feron and Liara. “The colony should be able to rebuild, with some help from the Council, if I can convince them to donate money for the repairs.”

“I can fill out that paperwork,” Kaidan offered. “It might convince them to let me stay on the job.”

Shepard nodded, giving up easily and leaning on the table as she thought. Feron read over a datapad, setting it on the table in front of Shepard carefully. Turning to the front of the room, Feron displayed the list of merchandise, alongside photos of the four agents. 

“They made us look like greenhorns today,” Zaeed groused, massaging his shoulders and neck, the cracks and pops of his joints betraying the hardened mercenary’s age. 

“At least we have their faces now,” Liara nodded to Feron, who was studying the photos closely.

"And another face," Kasumi added, pointing the the mustached man. "He wasn't on  _Omega_. Just the other four."

“You don’t recognize any of them?” Liara asked Feron imploringly.

“No,” Feron sighed, magnifying the photo of the bald man and pointing at the tattoos peeping out from under his collar to frame the angry scar on his throat. “But these tattoos might lead us to something, they are common to mercenary gangs.”

“Or he just likes his ink,” Jack grumbled behind chewing her nails, and Vega mumbled in begrudging agreement.

“Or that,” Feron admitted, pulling up the photo of the glaring redhead. “This is the leader, I take it.”

“As far as we know,” Shepard nodded. 

“The pup that looked like he'd soiled himself called her ‘the boss,’ so at least we answered that,” Zaeed sat up.

“Yes, ‘Daniel,’” Feron frowned. “I’ll have to ask my source about him.”

“Not to interrupt the art show,” Garrus interrupted from his place. “But it would be good to know what they stole out from under our noses.”

“Not stole, they gave us the payment,” Feron corrected grimly.

“That’s not comforting,” Garrus reminded.

“It is to me,” Zaeed disagreed smugly.

“That doesn’t get the job done,” Shepard scolded coldly as Liara, Kaidan, Vega, and Garrus all bristled at Zaeed's comment. “Feron, what did they get?”

Feron turned from considering the board of information, pointing at the pad he had laid in front of Shepard. Zaeed leaned back in his seat, doing Jack a favor by drawing the anger in the room. Feron cleared his throat, tucking his hands into his pockets as he talked.

“The majority was scrap,” Feron explained. “Salvage from old ships and some geth parts. Also some cybernetic pieces. Nothing weapons based.”

“Where did you get the cybernetics?” Tali asked, patting Garrus’ arm to comfort him.

Feron cleared his throat again, stroking at his frills instead of answering the question. Zaeed chuckled, informing, “A lot of companies go out of business in three years. Easy pickings for cheap tech.”

Tali jerked her head in offense, and Liara studied the table pointedly while Feron nodded shortly in agreement. Shepard read the list in front of her, brushing her hair sharply when it fell over her shoulder. Shepard passed the list to Garrus while Feron turned back towards the front wall, his eyes dancing feverishly as he studied the photos.

“Why would they need that stuff?” Vega asked loudly, looking over Garrus’ shoulder and scowling in confusion. 

“Perhaps black market scheme,” Mordin thought aloud. “Hospitals still struggling to compensate, cybernetics could be very lucrative.”

“And the rest?” Shepard asked.

“Camouflage,” Kasumi decided certainly. “Like the extra computer programs.”

Shepard chewed her lip, joining Feron to consider the photos on the wall as the datapad made its rounds. Jack barely glanced at it, the light of the screen pricking into her eyes as a second headache came crashing into her skull. 

“This isn’t the first time they’ve taken cybernetics,” Tali said. “But without someone to install them, they’re useless.”

“Then they’re just middlemen,” Grunt tossed the datapad aside carelessly. "Muscle to do the heavy lifting."

“They’d need access to a top of the line medical facility to use any of this,” Kaidan reminded, looking over the inventory. “The Citadel is the only one equipped for that type of work.”

“People manage,” Garrus warned, saving Jack the trouble of wasting her energy trying to educate Kaidan on the ingenuity of desperation or greed.

Kaidan nodded in concession, and Shepard handed the data pad back to Feron. Feron shrank the images, storing the datapad in his pocket and looking to Zaeed. Zaeed groaned, rising stiffly from his chair and heading for the door.

“I’ve given the photos to EDI,” Feron paused over the name, looking around the ship suspiciously. “But I will keep looking for clues through my own channels. This group seems to have experience on their side, they had to get it from somewhere.”

“You’re not staying?” Liara asked. 

“I am more useful working,” Feron smiled slightly. “I will leave as soon as my ship is refueled.”

“And….you're taking Zaeed with you?” Tali asked hopefully.

“Until the next port,” Feron said wryly, Zaeed grunting in agreement and following the drell out.

“Alright, we all have work to do,” Shepard agreed. “Dismissed.”

Before Jack could jump out of her seat, Shepard was guarding the door, speaking shortly with each member of the crew as they left. Garrus’ mandibles clicked as Shepard spoke in his ear, Kaidan shuffled his feet unhappily before he left, while Vega nodded happily before heading to the cockpit to talk to Joker. Jack slid towards the door, trying to slip behind Grunt.

“Jack, my cabin, please,” Shepard barely raised her voice.

Jack didn’t acknowledge the command, making a circle of the ship before getting in the empty elevator. Tying her hair back tightly, Jack steeled herself for brushing off one of Shepard’s rare scoldings. It would be easier of Shepard was a bitch.

Jack nearly walked out when she saw Garrus and Mordin waiting for her alongside Shepard when the cabin door opened, but Shepard had already seen her. Crooking her finger when she saw Jack’s hesitation, Shepard stood in the center of the room until Jack had fallen into the line in front of her, avoiding Garrus’s face.

“So,” Shepard said, moving to cross her arms and then dropping them at her sides. “What happened today?”

Mordin swung his arm in the sling, while Garrus and Jack remained still, shooting suspicious look at the other to speak. Shepard waited patiently, sinking into standing crookedly instead of formal attention as she waited for their answer.

“It seemed that Jack’s attack was at risk to the civilians,” Mordin finally offered. 

“And she ignored my order to stop,” Garrus accused.

“I did not ignore you,” Jack interrupted before they had a chance to blame her. “But I can’t just stop an attack once it’s started, can you put a bullet back in your gun?”

“Then you shouldn’t have tried it in the first place,” Garrus said critically.

“I was trying to stop at least one of them from escaping, and she nearly blinded me! I didn’t see anyone else catching up to help me,” Jack took her chance to throw accusations.

“That does not mean you _explode in the center square_ ,” Garrus rumbled.

“Look, I didn’t make you run into the center of my-“

“Alright, enough!” Shepard intervened, pushing Garrus and Jack apart. “Clearly today didn’t go as planned, but I can’t have anyone fighting about battlefield miscommunications. But let me be clear: our objective is to detain these mercenaries, not execute them. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Commander,” Garrus said promptly, his triumph not quite masked.

“Yes, Shepard,” Jack said through gritted teeth, and Mordin nodded.

“Good. Garrus, Mordin, you’re dismissed.”

Garrus balked at the short command, following Mordin stiffly and scowling at Jack doubtfully before the cabin door closed. Jack stood her ground, readying herself while Shepard gathered her thoughts. If Shepard wanted to pretend she was helping Jack save face by yelling at her in private, that was her mistake to make.Shepard folded up her sleeves, still standing at ease.

“How is your implant?” Shepard asked. “I’m guessing something happened, or that woman _would_ be dead.”

Jack shrugged, letting Shepard fill in the blanks the way she wanted to. If Jack had finished the attack the way she had planned, the woman would have been little more than a smear on the ground. But her stupid implant had caused enough problems today, maybe the malfunction could at least get her out of trouble.

“The damn thing got glitchy when I fucked up the charge thanks to Garrus screaming at me,” Jack shrugged. “Like I told Kaidan, it happens sometimes, no big deal.”

“Do you need to fix it?” Shepard asked incredulously.

“Seems to be fine now,” Jack swung her hands carelessly. 

“Have Mordin take a look at it,” Shepard instructed.

“I’m not letting a pissed off salarian poke around my skull,” Jack refused. 

“Mordin won’t try anything,” Shepard was impatient.

“Yeah, I’d rather not tempt him,” Jack said, rolling her neck against the pins and needles.

“Jack,” Shepard reprimanded.

“I’m not having _anyone_ mess with my spine,” Jack insisted sharply. “I know my biotics, and I don’t need doctors scanning and cutting me up to 'check.' My biotics, my call, Shepard.”

Shepard hesitated, and Jack took her retreat to the door back, pacing up to Shepard and mimicking Shepard’s forced relaxed posture mockingly. Jack didn’t flinch under Shepard’s examination, snorting angrily.

“Are you going to order me to do it anyway, Commander?” Jack asked, knowing that she was testing the limits of even Shepard’s compromising nature.

“No,” Shepard informed with a carefully soft tone. “But I want to hear of any problems.”

Jack didn’t nod too quickly, pretending to consider Shepard’s offer before she shrugged apathetically.

“Sure, whatever,” Jack agreed, turning for the door. “No problems, so no problem.”

Shepard let Jack leave, and Jack counted the seconds until the elevator reached the engineering deck. God, that biotic misfire had hit her harder than she’d thought, she hadn’t been this sore since learning the uses of her biotics as a runt on Pragia.

“Things go wrong, it’s no one’s fault,” Jack groaned softly as she heard Tali’s voice croon from down the corridor. 

“What she did was dangerous, not just for civilians, which is bad enough,” Garrus was on his soap box already, acting like the savior of _Omega_ again. “Mordin’s lucky he just burst some new skin.”

“Jack-“

Tali stopped in a jumble of syllables when she saw Jack, lowering her head in embarassment. Garrus turned quickly, not even having the courtesy to look surprised at being caught airing his pillow talk to the entire deck. Jack laughed in her throat, leaning against the doorway.

“Bet you loved that lecture, Garrus,” Jack guessed. “Easier to let Shepard do the work for you, right?”

“I didn’t put Shepard up to it,” Garrus informed, squaring his shoulders defensively.

“Convenient, though,” Jack sneered. "And here Vega was warning me you might actually sack up and bitch me out yourself."

Garrus chuckled coldly, walking out of range before Tali could brush his arm. Tali shook her head, staying where she was and hiding her thoughts behind her mask. Garrus strolled up, looking down at Jack.

“Then I'll add some advice of my own,” Garrus assured. “The next time you put me at the center of a biotic blast, we’ll settle it the turian way. And I’m not one to hold back in the ring.”

“Neither am I,” Jack promised, hating that she saw Garrus regret his threat when he remembered who he was challenging. 

Jack ducked into the stairwell, retreating into dark and quiet before Garrus could chase after her and pretend to be sorry. Stretching out on her bunk, Jack listened to the feet over her head and the hum of the Normandy around her. Tucking her arms behind her head. Jack closed her eyes, pressing the palm of her hand into the throbbing at the base of her skull.

“Stupid fuckers,” Jack muttered, curling up with her back to the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter to follow soon. I think it's time the Freelancers got some more help.


	17. Chapter 17

Carolina could get used to having time off. Stretching contentedly, Carolina helped herself to a bagel from the spread in the dining hall. Most of the team was already here, savoring the time to relax. South and Wash were squabbling for fun for a change, Connie was playing Devil's Advocate to egg them on, North was taking a break from refereeing to read, and York was chuckling to himself over his computer with Delta by his coffee mug. All things considered, things had worked out in their favor. South was still nursing her pride, but she was physically recovered, the goods were safely delivered, and they had gotten a few days off as a reward. Carolina split the bagel in half, offering a bite to York as he scooted over to let her sit next to him.

“So…I think he wants to bang you in a shooting range,” York theorized with a short grin to Connie.

Carolina snickered along with Wash and South while Connie tried to steal the computer from York. York waved Connie off, propping his chin on his hand and looking over James Vega’s message. Connie had handed over her new mail account for review without a fight after getting Vega’s address from North and writing to draw Vega in. And since North was stonewalling them on his progress with the pilot, the entire crew had latched on to York's public dissection of Vega's messages with gusto.

“Is that a military thing?” Wash asked with a laugh, tossing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth.

“No,” South sighed with exaggerated longing, making Wash snort the bite up.

“Guns, one hell of an aphrodisiac,” North laughed from where he was reading. 

“But…but at the _range_??” Wash asked. “What, on the little shelves, that seems-“

“I’m not fucking him in a shooting range!”Connie shouted, pointing to the email. “He just says _we_ should go shooting, Garrus, Shepard and Stevie too…I’m not an exhibitionist!!”

“He probably is,” South said wisely, pausing and then cackling, “Ha! He’s _literally_ inviting you to a gun show.”

“You all suck,” Connie whined, going to sit by North and pout over her cereal. 

Carolina spread cream cheese on her bagel, laughing at South ignoring Wash’s hopeful offering for a high five until he sank into his seat dejectedly. York didn’t react to the commotion, groping his hand along the table until he found his toast and eating it as he continued reading.

“What do you think, Delta? Want to try the trace again?” York asked, brushing crumbs off of his hands in a shower over the green hologram.

“It would be a waste of time, since he is still using the Normandy’s system,” Delta didn’t seem to notice the food falling through him. 

“Yeah, just thought I’d ask,” York didn’t sound hopeful. “There’s still the file idea, but-“

“Nope, no, and fuck you,” Connie called from her seat.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” York promised through a sip of coffee. “I’ve done this without swimsuit shots before, we’ll keep trying that.”

Connie didn’t say anything, but didn’t quite mask a grateful expression before she brought up her omnitool to hide behind. Carolina jostled York’s shoulders, pecking him on the lips quickly for keeping the peace. Connie worked better when she wasn’t forced into something, and as frustrating as Connie could get, they needed her technical expertise. York stole another kiss before Carolina leaned back, smacking his lips unhappily at the taste of cream cheese and washing it away with another sip of coffee.

York looked up suddenly, and North lowered his book as Theta appeared on his shoulder and Wyoming and Maine entered the dining hall. Sigma glided in front of them, taking notice of Theta and Delta. Theta bobbed in the air when Sigma looked at him, and for once, Delta returned Sigma's gesture, following Sigma’s movement as the other AI drifted away from Maine and landed on the table.

“Good morning,” Sigma addressed all of the agents as he skated around the table on his translucent legs. “Agent South Dakota, are you feeling better?”

“Fine,” South shrugged her formerly broken ribs and cracked skull off. “Is Maine asking that?”

“It seemed appropriate,” Sigma responded.

South smirked knowingly, slicing off a section of banana and pretending to offer it to Sigma before popping it in her mouth. Sigma held up his hands to refuse the morsel, materializing at the end of the table as Maine sat down with his breakfast. Carolina didn’t want to think that Maine and Sigma pulling South to safety had been a good thing, but at least South had stopped complaining about one of the AIs.

“We’ll leave him on the hook for a few hours, answer this later,” York called to Connie, pushing the computer away and digging into his food.

“Can’t you just pretend to be me?” Connie asked half-heartedly as she inspected something on her screen.

“That works until you have to charm him in person and forget something from half-listening to me. You don’t get cozy with someone through mission briefings. You're on the job, Tissot,” York warned, coming dangerously close to pulling rank. 

Connie noticed, but barely sighed, briefly considering North’s empty drink glass as a projectile before going back to her work. York caught himself a second later, and looked around sheepishly to see if anyone had noticed. They all had, and South shared a bemused eye-roll with Carolina while North hid a snort behind his book. York didn’t have the same hard ass ego that most high ranking officers kept, but old training was hard to shake. It wasn’t a secret that Connie agreed with him with less of a fight, even if she loudly proclaimed otherwise.

“Nice to be on the company’s good side for a change,” Wyoming observed in the relaxed atmosphere.

“They must have liked the haul,” Carolina agreed, glad to have the breather. “We got some good stuff this go around.”

“And I’m _still_ taping our mechs back together,” Connie said bitterly. “Guess they gave Four Seven Niner all the good shit.”

“Don’t tell her that,” North suggested, keeping an eye on Theta now that he flitting around. “She’s scrounging for parts as much as you are.”

Connie clicked her tongue in disbelief, frowning slightly and sighing through her teeth as she closed her screen. Delta had disappeared, leaving York to eat in peace, but Sigma was still out, waiting patiently for Maine to finish eating. Gamma had joined him, the light of their holograms casting glows over their handlers food. At least Gamma was finally getting settled with Wyoming, instead of chattering whenever he was out.

“When is Gamma’s combat assessment?” Carolina asked Wyoming, squashing a wriggle of jealousy.

“The Director has not assigned one at this time,” Gamma answered for Wyoming when he mouth was full.

“I’ve had him in the armor, but it keeps surging,” Wyoming said unhappily. “It’s getting rewired to handle the extra power, and then, whenever they cut me loose.”

“Huh, wonder what he does,” York thought aloud. “Delta didn’t have a problem.”

“Theta does,” North reminded. “He burnt out my last omnitool trying to make a shield with it.”

“Sorry,” Theta squeaked.

“Nah, it was badass,” North assured fondly. “Maybe Gamma’s energy based, like another type of shield.”

Carolina stuffed the last half of her bagel into her mouth, deciding to leave this debate to those lucky enough to experience an AI personally. Gamma was listening with his usual passive patience, and Sigma had turned to face the agents again, respectfully quiet during the discussion. Maine concentrated on his breakfast, leaving Sigma silent even when the other agents looked to him for input. Maybe he thought the answer was obvious, with how ragged he looked after frying mechs for only twenty minutes.

“Pair Sig with Theta, and we might get something done,” South observed, and Sigma smiled softly, nodding deferentially for the compliment. “Lock them in a dome, and detonate the other biotic.”

Wyoming smirked, and South snickered in sour triumph. To Carolina’s surprise, Maine stayed silent again, neglecting even a self satisfied snarl or an obligatory thank you from Sigma. York hummed in thought, and North looked up from his book beside Connie.

“I dunno,” Wash admitted, licking butter off his thumb. “That psycho got up.”

“We just hit the wrong biotic,” Wyoming reminded, leaning on the table to address Sigma.“Tip from a pro, Sigma: next time, fuck with the L-2. Poor bastards are suicide bombers just waiting to be triggered.”

Connie hissed sharply, and Wash winced in preemptive sympathy. York stopped with a bite in his mouth, swallowing loudly in the pensive silence. North cleared his throat, picking at the edge of the scar on his neck fussily and nodding slowly. Biotics weren’t Carolina’s speciality, but a glance at Major Alenko’s medical history was enough to know that L-2s were a dying breed for a reason. Gamma and Sigma stood side by side, looking up at Wyoming attentively, before Gamma looked at Sigma when he flickered thoughtfully.

“L-2 implants are prone to malfunction, well known to cause dangerous energy spikes.” Gamma rattled the disclaimer, informing Sigma, ”Chance of casualties would have been increased.”

“Yes, Gamma,” Sigma agreed shortly, floating up to address Wyoming. “Thank you, Agent Wyoming, I will improve.”

“Take it easy, Maine,” North advised seriously. “Drawing that much power can bite _us_ in the-“

“Of course, Agent North Dakota,” Sigma interrupted alongside Maine’s tired growl. “I would not risk Agent Maine’s safety.”

North cut off, blinking at Sigma in surprise, hastily switching to look at Maine when he realized his blunder. Sigma stayed floating calmly in front of Wyoming for a moment, shrinking back to the table and resuming his wait for Maine. North poked his tongue in his cheek in annoyance, returning to his book in a hurt huff. South whistled under her breath, ignoring North’s displeased grunt at her.Connie looked more uneasy, crossing her legs away from North and back to pouting, at Sigma and Maine instead of York. So much for a peaceful morning.

“Don’t try that kind of thing without the doc’s ok,” Carolina tried to keep the peace, pointing her cream cheese coated knife at Sigma and Maine behind him. “The med bay could use a week off from fixing a crazy stunt.”

“Of course, Agent Carolina,” Sigma assured quietly, sinking through the table up to his knees. “Maine will ask at his appointment this afternoon.”

Maine sneered, dropping his chin once when Carolina looked to make sure he wasn’t using Sigma as a deflection. York kneed her under the table, nudging her away from a lost cause. Carolina shot a forbidding look at Wyoming for good measure, and then helped herself to the remainder of York’s abandoned toast. Wyoming shrugged, prompting Gamma to disappear, leaving Sigma alone on the table top. 

The rest of breakfast was quiet, but this quiet was uncomfortable, thanks to everyone’s newly found foul mood. Even South slipped into a bad mood, guiltily going to sit by her brother to make amends for getting on his bad side. York studied the message from Vega again, tapping his thumb against his temple as he got frustrated. There was always something to ruin the day.

“All agents please report to the conference room,” F.I.L.S.S. blessedly broke through their thoughts. 

“What’s up, we had class yesterday?” Wash eagerly dumped his dishes in spite of his complaint.

“The Director would like to see you in the conference room,” F.I.L.S.S. replied, as helpfully unhelpful as ever.

Carolina cleared her and York’s dishes, waiting for York to coax North out from his chair. North dropped his book in his seat, getting up and asking York something softly as the room cleared. York dug through his pocket, dropping two pills into North’s palm. North swallowed without water, mumbling to York as Carolina came to fetch them.

“Take him _out_ ,” York advised wearily. “That’ll give you a break.”

“So will these,” North reminded, pointing at the pills York was still holding. "It's fine."

“You didn’t talk to the doctors, huh?” Carolina teased both of them.

“They said occasional headaches are an 'expected side effect,'” York explained.

“Take him out,” Carolina put a tone of gentle authority into the suggestion to North, ignoring York taking his own dose of pills behind a cough.

North shrugged, reminding, “It’ll be worse if we get bitched out for being late.”

North excused himself and ignored Carolina's order, leaving York and Carolina to follow. York gulped down the last of his coffee and wiped his mouth as he choked, trotted after Carolina and North as they filed into the conference room. The Director was already there, talking inaudibly with a strange woman at the front of the room. North looked back for an explanation, copying Wash, South, and Connie’s inquisitive expressions behind him. 

“Please sit,” the Director ordered before Carolina had to admit that she was just as clueless as the rest of them.

The agents obeyed tentatively, immediately splitting off strategically: South, North, York and Carolina in one row, Connie and Wash in the row behind them, Wyoming and Maine sitting at opposite ends of the back row. Neither the Director nor the young woman seemed to notice the defensive shuffling. She didn’t look like an administrator, Carolina started trying to get ahead of whatever the Director was arranging. The cropped strawberry blonde hair and scuffed combat boots didn’t read doctor either, and the knife sheathe and gun on her belt didn’t scream mechanic.That meant military or mercenary.

York was at the same conclusion and hid his omnitool under the desk, making Delta appear for an instant to scan the woman’s face. The woman saw the flash, turning to the room while the Director was still talking. The Director joined her, but Delta was already gone, leaving Sigma the only visible AI.

“Good afternoon,” the Director greeted them as if the assembly was late. The agents mumbled back, and the woman looked even more unimpressed. “I’d like to introduce Agent Texas.”

The assigned codename was all the Director ever gave them when he threw a new agent into their midst. Mostly it was a formality, officially inducting a familiar face: York, South, and North had been Carolina’s recommendation, York had pulled Connie in, and North had tracked down Wash with an offer, cultivating a trusted team based in the symbiotic partnerships they had used to survive London. But Four Seven Niner, Wyoming, and Maine were separate additions on the Director’s command, and York was still trying to ferret out their pasts with Delta’s help. From the blank looks on everyone’s faces and York’s omnitool humming furiously, ‘Agent Texas’ had been the Director’s decision, and they’d get her sob story if she felt like sharing.

“Got a real name there, Tex?” Wyoming asked, smugly mangling a Southern drawl.

“Yeah, but Tex works,” Agent Texas said, matching Wyoming’s contempt exactly and offering nothing more. Not the sharing type, then.

“What are you good for?” South joined the introductory hazing, bluntly asking what they were all thinking.

“Big guns, small guns, stealth, computers,” North added more diplomatically. “We all cover a base or two.”

Agent Texas looked insulted by the question, even when North softened it, angrily tugging down the long sleeves of her shirt. Carolina entertained the idea of calling South off, but stayed quiet, waiting to see Texas’ answer for herself.The Director coughed gutturally, forbiddingly explaining, “Agent Texas has been hired to help offset the suspension of Agents York, North Dakota, and Connecticut.”

“Can she hack?” Wash asked hopefully while York glanced up from his lap. 

“Like Sigma?” South added testily, and Maine wheezed in agreement while Sigma took the compliment silently.

“Not really,”Texas interjected, seemingly unashamed at the admission.

“Then what? Mercenary? Black market artisan? Army brat? Criminal errand boy?” South pointed at Wyoming and Maine, herself and North, Connie and York, and finally an insulted Wash. “We've already doubled up on specialties, and Four Seven Niner flies a full shuttle. Or are we hiring spares to pad the roster now?”

“That’s enough,” the Director waited for South to finish her rant before slicing the air with his order.

The Director looked furious, and even South knew when to shut her mouth. Tex, on the other hand, just looked tired. Tugging at the holsters on her belt casually, Texas’s blue eyes met South’s icy glower without a flinch.

“The Director thought you could use an extra hand after Joab,” Tex said. “And the salary was worth my time.”

The entire room turned to look at South, even Sigma. Carolina heard South’s teeth grind, but if Tex noticed, she didn’t react. North looked between his sister and Tex, sitting forward in his chair in preparation for grabbing South if she tried to move. 

“You asked,” North muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Tex seemed to notice that, glancing at the Director with the first hint of uncertainty Carolina could see. The Director was back to his detached disapproval, monitoring South over the rims of his glasses as he waited for them to cooperate on their terms, until he enforced his own when convenient.

“Can you use a sniper rifle?” Carolina asked, drawing attention away from South and banking on North’s better temper. “We need another gun more than we need another computer geek.”

South slumped back in her seat, North leaning on the armrest next to her in case she tried something. He didn’t look any happier than South at the idea of having someone try and take his place in the field, but at least North would stew quietly. Tex alternated between studying Carolina and the twins, settling on Carolina’s question.

“I’m better at close range and hand to hand,” Tex admitted, one eye on North as he relaxed. “But I can make a shot at 1700 meters.”

North shrugged off the number critically, comfortable on his throne now that Tex had proved to be just above mediocrity. Carolina nodded, receiving a rare look of approval from the Director for defusing the situation. Tex turned away from the twins, focussing on Carolina as she gleaned that part of the pecking order.

“Self trained, mercenary honed,” Tex explained, looking to the respective members of the team. “Never really got into the whole rank and file thing.”

Tex stopped her surveying look on Carolina. There was nothing for Carolina to say until she saw Tex in action, but the other woman seemed confident. Calm, but keeping abreast of the atmosphere before she burnt bridges she might need. The Director nodded to Carolina in an understanding Carolina hadn’t reached yet.

“You did complain about being three soldiers down,” the Director reminded when Carolina got too comfortable. “Agent Texas should be able to compensate.”

For all of them? Carolina didn’t ask. She’d rather have York on the computer and North in the wings, but the Director wasn’t asking for a public poll. Carolina stood, stepping around York and coming to the front of the room. Tex’s gaze followed her, until her blue eyes were meeting Carolina’s as Carolina extended her hand.

“Welcome to the team,” Carolina knew the formalities by heart.

“Glad for the work,” Tex replied, her eyes never leaving Carolina's face. 

Tex’s grip was short and forceful, coming just short of hurting Carolina’s hand before she let go. The Director grunted in approval, motioning Tex to the door. Tex nodded shortly to Carolina as she walked away, paying a final silent look to the other agents.

“Agent Texas will receive hermedical assessment, and begin training tomorrow,” the Director informed. “Agent Maine, Agent Wyoming, you will report to the med bay as well.”

Wyoming started to groan, thinking better of it when he saw the Director’s face, and joining Maine and Sigma in their sullen trek to the medical wing. Tex waited at the door for the Director, ignoring the fact that Maine and Wyoming conspicuously used the door on the far side of the room. 

“Agent Carolina, please show Agent Texas to her quarters,” the Director ordered with a wave of annoyance. “The rest of you are dismissed.”

The agents hesitated over the command, looking amongst themselves to see how the others were reacting. South was the worst, but none of them looked happy. Another agent meant sharing their supplies, time, and shore leave privileges, and learning to play nice with a stranger. Worse, it meant more competition for upgrades.

“When’s her combat test?” Connie asked the crucial question, making Tex finally look interested.

“Agent Texas will be formally evaluated and ranked when deemed appropriate,” the Director confirmed their suspicions, punctuating the flat announcement with an equally apathetic, “Dismissed.”

South sprang out of her chair, North twisting out of her way to let her storm by before herding her to the door away from Tex. Wash tugged at his hair, sneaking a hopeful look at the Director and trailing behind Connie until it was clear that was the only update they were going to get. York was last, fussing with his omnitool and meandering out of his seat. Carolina jabbed her elbow at the door, and York gave in, bringing Delta up to his ear and leaving the door open behind him, leaving Carolina and the Director pondering the empty rows while Tex slid to wait on the opposite side of the door.

“Are you ever going to tell me _before_ we get a new member?” Carolina asked under her breath.

“Agent Texas was recruited on short notice,” the Director took off his glasses and polished the lenses. 

“They don’t like feeling sidelined for a new hire,” Carolina warned.

“I assumed you would be grateful for another asset.”

“But I need to know how to organize my team,” Carolina reminded. “You can’t call in a replacement and expect me to just stick them-“

“I expect you to do whatever is required, and utilize resources and manpower appropriately” the Director cut Carolina off. “Just as I expect Agent York and the others to do what they are assigned. Will that be a problem?”

Settling his glasses back on his nose, the Director offered Carolina a calculated smile. It wasn’t really a question, and the Director didn’t want to hear logic and excuses any more than he wanted to hear Carolina’s thought on hiring Tex in the first place. He had decided, and whether Carolina would comply was just a matter of time.

“No. Sir,” Carolina added the second part to placate him before marching for the safety of the hallway.

Tex was waiting a foot away from the door, straightening up from a relaxed lean when Carolina appeared. She didn’t look like someone who needed or wanted a tour of the base, but Carolina could still feel the Director watching her back to ensure compliance.

“Do you have gear?” Carolina asked. “Tech, weapons, personal affects?”

“I just stored my stuff in the lockers,” Tex shrugged. 

“Personal affects stay in your bunk,” Carolina corrected, starting down the hall and blaring over North trying to talk sense to South in his room and Connie's hushed annoyance leaking out from under Wash’s door. “Lockers are for armor and weapons, and you only get one.”

Tex absorbed that with her seemingly customary silence, turning over her shoulder at the sound of North raising his voice. Carolina counted off the bunks, debating which of the remaining cells to allot to Tex. There was a free room beside North, but his room was currently being used for a show down. She could place Texas at the end of the hall, but that left her noticeably isolated. Carolina picked the lesser of two annoyances, thumping her fist loudly against North’s door as she passed.

“You can move your stuff in here,” Carolina opened the door to the next room, waving her hand at the simple bed, desk, and washroom arrangement. “I’ll take you to the med bay.”

“I can read the signs,” Tex stepped into the room and kicked at the bed. “Does it lock?”

Carolina snapped the lock on the door, and Tex looked over the room, opening the desk drawers with lazy curiosity. She was self sufficient, at least, unlike Wash staying in North and South’s shadows when he first arrived. She might not make friends that way, but she’d make fewer enemies staying out of the way.

“You’ll get a physical, a couple scans to make sure you aren’t going to infect the base with some colony cold,” Carolina explained while Tex made herself comfortable in the sparse quarters. “Then you’ll get assigned armor, that could take a few days, and get tested in the training room to see where you can be placed.”

“Then an AI?” Tex asked, sitting on her bed and brushing the covers straight.

Tex still didn’t sound impressed, kicking her desk drawers closed from the bed and stretching. Carolina didn’t know why she was annoyed, the main reason to get involved with this outfit was the promise of new gadgets. But Tex was asking as if an AI was simply a matter of paperwork and patience. 

“The Director and doctors will decide when to assign you any armor enhancements or an AI,” Carolina educated. “Agent Washington is next in line, but the more you impress the Director, the sooner you’ll get one.”

“Is Washington the last one?” Tex asked.

Texas wasn’t making it easy to forget why she was annoying, Carolina thought. She sounded as entitled as Wyoming, but at least Wyoming didn’t care enough to pry into other people’s business.

“Washington, Connecticut, South Dakota, and myself,” Carolina admitted. 

Tex raised her eyebrows, thinking to herself and her brows jumping over something without comment. Standing up, Tex stood in front of Carolina expectantly. Did she want more of an explanation, or was she sizing up the competition? Before Carolina could ask which problem it was, Tex jerked her chin to the side.

“Better get to the med bay,” Tex said, turning to squeeze by Carolina and pulling the door shut behind her. “Get this over with.”

Tex’s eyes narrowed, and the corner of her mouth pinched, threatened to turn up into a simper before the spasm passed. Then Tex had pushed past, walking to the end of the hall and turning certainly to follow the path she must have seen Maine and Wyoming take. Carolina was left staring at the locked door, the corridor suspiciously quiet. 

As soon as Tex’s footsteps rounded the corner, Carolina heard the latch to North’s door click. Carolina bolted, closing her door behind her and locking it firmly. She didn’t have the energy to answer North’s questions. Tex was here, waiting for her share of the spoils like the rest of them, and no amount of bickering would change that. Maybe York's search would yield a detailed biography and resume, but more likely they'd be lucky to find a wanted poster, and would have to take whatever scraps of personal information Tex decided to reveal. The next few days would be used to test Tex, and even if she passed orientation, she would have to wait for a mission to prove herself. Carolina had until then to decide what to do with her. That was something. Leaning her head against the door as she heard Wash open his door and ask North what he’d heard, Carolina groaned in self pity. Sometimes fighting off military grunts was the easy part of this job. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m tentatively assuming that Tex doesn’t look exactly like the original Allison, otherwise Carolina would have had a serious crisis when Tex removed her helmet, since Carolina has some memories and a video of her mother. So while Canon Tex, and this Tex by extension, is based on Allison, Tex is not a physical clone of Allison, so Carolina doesn’t have a reason to shout, “Holy shit, Mom?!” as soon as she sees her.


	18. Chapter 18

Shepard felt Kaidan kick his blankets off, and shut her eyes with a sleepy sigh. It was a poor ruse; she had been awake for hours, and Kaidan knew it. Shepard peered out from under her eyelids, letting Kaidan straighten the crooked sheet over her shoulderbefore he got out of bed. Shepard tried to convince herself that she was dozing off through the white noise of Kaidan’s shower, and thought about joining him instead of pretending, but before she had moved, she heard the squeak of the faucet turning off.

Shepard rolled over, leaving her eyes open as Kaidan sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots and finish buttoning his shirt. Willing herself to get up, Shepard turned over instead, getting comfortable under the blankets. Kaidan felt her curl up, and turned to press a light kiss to her shoulder.

“Ready for breakfast?” Kaidan asked.

“I still need to get out of bed,” Shepard pointed out, nuzzling into her pillow.

Kaidan laughed softly, straightening the blankets again before seeing himself to the cabin door. Shepard croaked the order for EDI to unlock it, turning onto her back and staring at the ceiling as the door hissed open. 

“Check on Jack?” Shepard called, guiltily reasoning that a crew was made for splitting responsibilities.

“Yeah,” Kaidan confirmed as the door hissed closed.

As soon as the door closed, Shepard regretted not getting up with him and instead stupidly staying in the cabin with her thoughts.She should get up, before she pushed all of her work into the evening and had to stay awake until the next morning. Not that it made a difference on how much sleep she got, but it helped her maintain the illusion of sleeping through the night.

Shepard forced herself out of bed, making it to her desk chair before losing her energy. Trying to remember how she had organized the data pads from her reading the night before, Shepard resigned herself to reading them again . There was the list of goods Feron had given, in addition to the condescending messages from the lab on Nasurn, and a begrudging response from the Council approving aid to the leveled town on Joab. 

“Damn it,” Shepard swore to the empty cabin.

Climbing into the shower, Shepard cranked up the hot water, letting it soak into her skin and force her awake. There was too much to do to let her crew pick up the slack for her today.Her desk looked productive, but after days of waiting for inspiration to hit, Shepard was still standing back on Joab, watching the mercenaries escape from the ruins without knowing where, why, or how they had pulled it off.

Why was the worst part. Where they were and how they’d done it would be material answers eventually, but why was always the question only they could answer. Money or power were the obvious guesses, but unless they were selling their gains to someone who wasn’t using them, they weren’t turning a profit yet.

Shepard ground the rough soap against her skin, trying to clear her head and think more constructively. Power then. But for what? They didn’t target civilians or colonial strongholds, and even if they did, the Council would dispense their destruction from the safety of the Citadel as soon as they settled in one stronghold. 

So perhaps they were building something. Something large enough to defend against the forces of the Council. Or neutralize the Council. But what, from a pile of scrap and cybernetics that would stretch just beyond repairing Shepard. They weren’t an army, they were a band of humans clawing to stay ahead. And worse, in spite of everything, they were succeeding.

Shepard snatched for the soap again, her shivering fingers aching as the soap fell through them to the floor. Peeling her soaked hair away from her neck, Shepard turned off the frigid water with stiff hands, hurriedly wrapping herself in a towel. She was awake now, Shepard grimaced, working the heel of her hand into the knot of scar tissue below her ribs as the muscles stiffened from the cold. Well, getting up last meant no one else had to suffer through a cold shower after she wasted the ship’s supply.

Finally dressed and wrested away from her bed, Shepard tried to look as if she had been up for hours as she walked through the corridors to the dining hall. If the crew could put up a front of believing her, the least she could do was try and make it convincing. There were still crew lounging at the tables, and Shepard sighed in relief when she saw Grunt eating while Garrus entertaining the crew around them, gesturing energetically with his spoon. The cook served her a heaping plate without asking, and Shepard managed a grin as she sat down to a crew enthralled by Garrus’ theatrics.

“There I was,” Garrus’ eyes gleamed in anticipation as his audience leaned in. “Twelve thugs on each side, and only ten bullets left.”

“No,” one of the younger crew challenged, his fork hovering over his plate as he gawped.

“Ten. Bullets,” Garrus repeated, leaning across the table and squinting at the young man to emphasize his point. “What would you do?”

The young man gulped, too nervous to see the mirth written all over Garrus’ face. Everyone around Garrus was squirming, looking between themselves for an answer or a sacrifice to make a guess. Shepard ate quietly, smothering a genuine grin as she felt the crew turn to her, gaping at the two old warriors in fascination.

“Run?” the young man tried to answer through a cracking voice.

“You could,” Garrus laughed while Shepard fought the urge to do the same. “Never really been my choice.”

“Run at _them_ ,” Grunt asserted, draining a pitcher of water in a long gulp and spraying the young woman across from him with spit as he belched.

“Turians aren’t built like battering rams,” Garrus informed.

“Maybe…Use _their_ bullets?” Shepard feigned a guess for a story she had heard hundreds of times, handing the drenched mechanic a wad of napkins before the krogan spittle stained.

Garrus leaned back on the bench, looking at Shepard in annoyance before chuckling at her innocent smile. Grunt wiped his mouth, nodding in agreement. The crew all began to nod emphatically, trying to hide their confusion behind obedience.

“Lucky guess,” Garrus accused, turning back to his audience. “Narrow spaces are a double edged sword. It makes your target easier to hit, but-“

“It makes _everything_ easier to hit,” Grunt added the obvious unhappily, getting up from the table and going to bully the cook for more food.

“One shot in the air from me, and they were shooting at any shadow that moved,” Garrus finished before Shepard stole his glory. “And I got to keep nine bullets.”

Shepard watched the crew around them debate challenging the story as she ate. Some of them bought it, but more of them were still trying the calculations in their heads and coming up skeptical. Shepard had seen Garrus get out of worse scrapes than a back alley shootout, but even she doubted that there were twelve opponents on either side. Twelve altogether, probably, but that didn’t have the same legendary ring to it. And Garrus had probably shot a few to keep himself amused.

“Did they send more guys after you?” one brave marine asked, stirring her cereal nervously when Garrus turned in response to her question.

“They tried,” Garrus said loftily, adding smugly. “But even _Omega_ only has so many guns for hire.”

The crew leaned forward for a conclusion to the story, and Garrus left them hanging, preening smugly over the memory of Archangel’s flare for chaos. Shepard let him soak in the awed silence, making a show of stuffing food in her mouth to keep the crew from turning on her for details.

“Shepard, I have something to show you, when you’re available,” Garrus informed, nodding politely to his slavering audience as he left.

Shepard debated writing him up for treason as the entire crew turned on her, demanding answers with their pleading expressions. Grunt grumbled, hunching over his food sullenly and daring one of the crew to talk to him. No one took the challenge, contenting themselves to mumbling prompts to each other.

“He’s bullshitting,” a lone woman guessed, having the good sense to look around her for support. “Maybe…maybe not _a lot_ , but he has to be. Right?”

“You could ask him,” Shepard suggested conversationally.

“No thank you,” the young marine said loudly and quickly, sitting up straight and adding, “ma’am” when her friends balked.

Shepard smiled, swallowing her laugh before she mocked the marine in front of her peers any further. Grunt was already chuckling, prompting the young woman to turn a bright crimson as she jumped out of her seat, saluted Shepard sharply, and scuttled away.

“He’s not bullshitting,” Shepard informed the remaining onlookers, getting up before she made anyone else fall victim to formalities. “Just embellishing.”

Shepard chuckled, inviting the nervous group to join her. Some of them did, turning back to their food and gossiping mumbles as Shepard walked away. They would be clamoring for more stories by dinner time. They were lucky Garrus never tired of trying to see what tall tales his fans could believe.

Shepard picked up her pace as she neared the main battery. Garrus’ decision to bunk with Tali by the engine had forced him to stop sleeping there or working through the night, but he still used it as his workshop. “The Rookery” Vega had once called it, before Garrus had caught him in a headlock and lectured him on the difference between turians and birds for twenty minutes straight. Garrus had been sour since Joab, nursing his guilty grudge against Jack and looking for some way to help without knowing how. Now he was sitting in a nook at the back of the battery, cleaning his sniper lovingly.

“Shepard, I didn’t expect you that fast,” Garrus stopped tinkering when he saw Shepard at the door.

“You said you needed to see me,” Shepard shrugged. “What’s up?”

“I think I have something for you.”

Shepard didn’t know whether to feel anticipation or dread as Garrus rushed to his weapons bench. It was organized chaos, with the pieces of Garrus’ pistol lined up across the workspace. He did all of his weapons modifications himself. Some of them were legal, some of them weren’t, but they all looked formidable.

“You going stir crazy in here?” Shepard kidded as Garrus picked over the pieces. “Decided to trick out your sidearm?”

Garrus shook his head, picking up a discarded sight and peering down it. Shepard joined him at the bench, keeping her hands in her pockets before she disrupted Garrus’ work. Garrus placed the site back into place, tapping his finger over the pieces in front of him.

“This is from Joab,” Garrus explained, flicking at the dismantled trigger. “Kasumi found it buried in the wreckage and thought it was mine. She was disappointed I didn’t notice it missing. I thought it was Jack’s, until I noticed the modifications.”

“Anything we can track?” Shepard asked hopelessly, picking up the frame gingerly and looking for any distinctive marks.

“Not once the blackmarket was done with them,” Garrus shook his head, straightening the scattered pieces. “Start with a generic model, with parts stolen from a dozen shipments, it’ll lead us into the maze that’ll take months.”

“But work like this, the maker has to have a reputation,” Garrus sounded envious. “You have to compromise with modifications; to much power can throw off accuracy, extended magazines and incendiary or cryo round mods add weight, to fine a sight can make it a liability at close range. It’s easy to make a gun shoot harder or more accurately, but it’s harder to make itbalanced without giving something up. This one’s damn close, though. More power than precision, but not by much. It has some custom coloring too, it might ring bells with Liara’s sources or a thug or two on _Omega_.”

“That’s assuming they have clients,” Shepard reminded, handing the frame to Garrus to put back where he wanted it. “They could just work on their own weapons or buy them from someone else.”

“They might,” Garrus conceded, starting to reassemble the pistol automatically. “But they aren’t getting all of their supplies from raiding science labs, so they have to have to be trading somehow, the black market would be their best resource. I still have a few arms I can twist for information, we might find something.”

Garrus finished assembling the firearm as Shepard thought. Weapon traders gained their reputation and loyal customers by offering the best custom wares, that was undeniable. They might even get lucky and find someone to point them to the right arms dealer if they recognized the work. Whether that led to the mercenaries, or just some other middleman peddling guns to whoever had the money was another story. Garrus was grasping at straws to feel productive, but it didn’t hurt to let him try another branch of information.

“Keep the arm twisting to a minimum,” Shepard requested. “See if you and Liara can convince someone into talking first, before the physical incentive.”

“Strictly a figure of speech, in this case,” Garrus assured. “Most of the criminals I have in mind will happily give me a name if I let them walk away from the conversation.”

“Even the name at the end of that gun?” Shepard asked.

“Probably, if we promise not to publicly thank them for the help. And if not,” Garrus sighed thoughtfully, crossing his arms and pretending to consider the obstacle. “Then I can always show them _my_ gun. Up close.”

Shepard shook her head at Garrus’ eager tone, deciding this was good news. It was another piece of evidence, and would give Garrus something to do and Liara something to feed to her sources instead of a handful of photos. 

“Just don’t piss Aria or C-Sec off,” Shepard begged, unable to handle Aria, the Council, C-Sec superiors, and mystery mercenaries at the same time.

“I’ll let Aria feel in charge,” Garrus chuckled bitterly. “But I can’t promise C-Sec won’t get indignant someone is doing their job.”

Shepard snorted, taking the reassembled gun from Garrus’ hand and testing the feel. It was quite a gun, even Garrus looked envious of the build. But it was still just a goose chase, even if Garrus didn’t want to admit it. Shepard caught herself sighing and set the gun down, all too aware that Garrus was examining her.

“You charming the Council, me charming C-Sec,” Garrus leaned back against the bench and mused. “Back to the old times.” 

“Yeah,” Shepard forced herself to laugh.

The Old Times, Shepard felt the words’ weight in the silence that followed. Shepard knew that Garrus meant it as a comfort. The Old Times, the glorious golden age of the Normandy, when the crew was founded and they had won the war. The _Good_ Old Times. That’s what Garrus wanted it to mean, reminiscing with his old friend in the comfort of the ship.

“Well,” Shepard teased. “Someday the Council will stop fighting it and make you a Spectre. Save C-Sec wasting time on all that red tape.”

“My old superiors have already warned the Council of the anarchy I’d cause,” Garrus laughed.

Shepard and Garrus jumped in unison as Shepard’s omnitool started to trill, shrieking off the machinery. Back to business, Shepard sighed internally, answering the call before EDI had to play messenger.

“Commander….you…down…,” Cortez’s request was muffled, fading into the hum of the shuttle bay around him.

“Repeat that?” Shepard raised the speaker to her ear. “The ship’s drowning you out.”

“You need…the… bay,” Cortez’s voice barely broke through the speaker. 

Shepard groaned, shrugging apologetically at Garrus and heading for the elevator. Garrus sighed behind her, the clicking of pistol parts sounding above the hiss of the door. Any more stress on board, and the ship was going to burst at the seams.

Shepard regretted jinxing herself as soon as the elevator opened. The shuttle bay was dark, the main lights off and the only lights coming from the glow of computers and an omnitool at the far and of the bay by Vega’s workspace. Cortez and Vega were waiting for Shepard, whispering to themselves.

“Did we lose power?” Shepard looked for damage from a mechanical failure, dropping her voice quickly when Vega and Cortez jerked a finger in front of their mouths simultaneously. “I’m tired of asking.”

“We’re not sure either,” Vega admitted, barely audible. “The Major and ThreeB were lifting weights with their brains, then she freaked and-“

The trio flinched in unison at a clang from the far side of the room, accompanied by a yelp from Kaidan. The omnitool flew back several feet, Kaidan catching himself against the metal storage crate. Jack was nowhere to be see, the flare of her attack fading out slowly in the silhouette of the equipment around her.

“Take it easy,” Kaidan braced himself against a second rattling clang from in front of him. “Jack, you have to calm down.”

“No shit,” Jack’s muffled snarl kept Kaidan back even without another threatening thump. “Did they teach you anything _helpful_ at that stuck up academy?!”

Jack’s challenge was punctuate by an amorphous profanity on her part and another metallic bang over Kaidan’s response. Pushing a pacing Vega and fretting Cortez back into their shelter by the elevator, Shepard started for the chaotic corner in the silent fallout. Kaidan turned, holding his hand out flat to stop Shepard in her tracks as Jack’s incomprehensible hiss echoed from out of sight. Kaidan pointed down, kicking his socked feet in the light of his omnitool, prompting Shepard to shed her boots.

As Shepard bent to set her boots down softly, Kaidan knelt down, speaking under his breath to Jack behind her shelter of storage crates. Shepard shuffled faster, expecting Jack to hurl Kaidan back again, more worried when Jack gasped something back instead of scaring Kaidan away. 

Jack jerked her head up when she heard Shepard drop to kneel beside Kaidan, drawing further under Vega’s desk at the sound of Shepard’s knees hitting the floor. Kaidan slid behind Shepard’s shoulder by the time Jack looked up again, her hands locked behind her head, her head tucked between her knees, and her knees under her arms to make herself fit under the desk.

“About time,” Jack’s face shone with sweat under Kaidan’s omnitool. “Break out the good stuff, Shep.”

“I thought-“

“If you say ‘I told you so,’ I’ll put this desk up your ass,” Jack rocked on her feet and sprayed spit. “Just make him hand over his stash, ok?!”

Kaidan shook his head and Jack spat at him, leaving his face shining. Jack licked her lips feverishly, curling up more tightly and groaning to herself. Kaidan dragged Shepard behind him, shielding both of them from a surge from Jack that lifted the heavy desk.

Shepard’s first instinct was to give Jack whatever she needed to get out from bunkering down, but that fought her reluctance to give Jack drugs when her biotics were the problem. Jack was still unpredictable when she felt cornered, and Shepard had never had to risk getting her high to cope. Shepard had been hoping to avoid ever having to face the request.

“Jack, if you come out, we can-“

“ ** _Fuck you_ ,” **Jack panted, digging her fingers behind her head and leaning back under the desk.

Kaidan tapped Shepard on the shoulder, standing up and backing away from Jack. Shepard slid back to stand with him, leaving Jack hunkered under the desk hissing to herself. Kaidan flinched as the desk lurched again, pulling Shepard back.

“We have to get her to the Citadel,” Kaidan breathed in her ear. “We can’t extract an implant on a moving ship, even if Mordin-”

“You want to take it out?” Shepard asked. “I thought that was more risky than leaving it in, if we can just calm her-“

“At this point, that can only do so much,” Kaidan warned. “A broken implant could hurt her…and us.”

“DonttalklikeI’mnothereyou _fucker_ ,” Jack’s threat slurred together in a feverish ramble.

Kaidan grimaced, pacing back another ten steps with Shepard reluctantly following. Jack stayed where she was, a blue tinge spreading across her skin before flickering out. Jack growled, punching the floor and leaving a large dent from the force.

“How bad could this get, if we _don’t_ …if we don’t?” Shepard asked, adding quickly when Kaidan sighed through his teeth, “Kaidan, I wouldn’t force you, or-“

“It depends,” Kaidan interrupted. “She could start breaking her own bones trying to direct it. Or, she could tear a hole in the ship if she surges. If she lives through that, her brain probably won’t last. But it varies. It’s usually not good, but she might get lucky and only get worse if she tries using her biotics.”

Kaidan looked to Shepard, grimly waiting to see if that was what she wanted to hear. He looked even more tense than he sounded, his eyes on Shepard with his ear turned towards Jack. The desk screeched against the floor again, and Kaidan’s glare softened, bordering on doubt as he glanced to make sure Jack was still there.

“She’s got a better chance if we know what’s going on,” Kaidan explained with worry instead of frustration. “I can only guess, and Mordin can’t do much here. At least at the Citadel there are doctors who specialize in this.”

Kaidan glanced at Jack again, knitting his brows at how quiet she had become. The biotic glow was gone, but Jack still huddled under the desk, muttering to herself and panting between pained growls. Forced to watch Jack draw into the shadows and away from the whispers, Shepard’s stomach started to turn.

“Tell Joker to get us there ASAP,” Shepard ordered. “And…get me the shield dome, that should stand a blast or two.”

“You’re not staying down here alone,” Kaidan preemptively warned. “Not without shields or a barrier.”

“Then get Liara down here to rotate with you, send Cortez for her and Vega to Joker,” Shepard said. “And get some pain killers or something, whatever will help.”

Kaidan hesitated, checking a final time to see that Jack was quiet before nodding and shuffling softly to Cortez and Vega’s corner. Stifling any warning thoughts, Shepard knelt back down, sliding on her knees to crouch in front of Jack. 

“Jack, we’re-“

“I heard,” Jack said savagely. 

Shepard waited for Jack to give her opinion, sitting down as Jack radiated silent anger. Jack wiped spit from her mouth, catching her breath shakily. It was a small comfort that she wasn’t moving the desk anymore, which only decreased when Jack shrank back at the sound of the elevator opening and closing. Shepard wished she had something comforting to say, but they all sounded like platitudes. Jack’s biotics were her comfort, her shield and sledgehammer against the world, the only constant she had always counted on to protect her. “It’ll be ok” or “how’re you feeling?” seemed like poor substitutes.

“I…don’t… _want_ …some fuckwad in my head,” Jack finally insisted, glaring at Shepard suspiciously. “I can…I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” Shepard assured, imagining to herself that she saw Jack’s knees relax a fraction. “But it’s better to be safe.”

“I don’t need _you_ being fucking condescending. Just because _he’s_ a pussy,” Jack faltered uncertainly, inhaling sharply and curling up again. “Look, I can handle it.”

“I was worried the ship couldn’t,” Kaidan interjected, extending two pills and a glass of water to Jack.

Jack snatched the offering, gulping down the pills and glowering at Kaidan, daring him to expect a thank you. When Kaidan sat down with Shepard without comment, Jack lost her combative energy, pushing the empty glass out expectantly until Kaidan took it and walked away.

“We have to try something,” Shepard insisted carefully. “The Citadel has better equipment, and doctors, and-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jack cut Shepard off.

Shepard stopped trying, moving to give Kaidan space as he reappeared with more water. Jack took the water slowly, sipping quietly and resentfully while Kaidan sat down with Shepard. Jack drained the glass in silence, wiping her mouth and rolling the empty class to hit Kaidan's knee to make him scoot away from her. 

“If you want to go, fine,” Jack mumbled to Shepard. “At least they’ll have better shit than aspirin.”

Shepard nodded, and Jack ignored her, hunkering in sullen silence and resting her cheek on her knees as she closed her eyes. The resigned silence was worse than Jack cursing and throwing things, making Shepard sick as it stretched through Liara joining them and the engines rumbling as the ship changed course. Hunkering in the dark without answers or any way to get them yet, Shepard felt the same feeling from the morning creeping back under her skin. A decorated Spectre, commander of the best ship in the galaxy, surrounded by the best crew, the legendary Shepard was completely useless.


	19. Chapter 19

_The pistol felt heavy and cold, the rough grip seeming to bite into his skin as he weighed it in his hand. He had handled guns before, to appreciate the work and in preparation for when trouble inevitably found its way to their door, but he’d always followed orders to keep his hands off without permission. Sasha hadn’t, and she still had the dent on her cheekbone to prove it. This went against all of his instincts and common sense. Still, he knew what end to point at trouble and away from himself._

_“Nate,” Sasha whispered, stuffing more ammo under the rumpled clothes she had crammed into a bag beside another pair of pistols and a knife. “Hurry up.”_

_He snapped the safety off, then on, then both again to be certain before tucking the pistol under his shirt tail. The common sense that wasn’t telling him to get back to bed said they had to hurry, before that evening’s stupor had worn off, or their father woke up for a job of his own and found his guns out of place. He wrapped extra ammunition in three of his shirts and finished packing, creeping to meet Sasha at his bedroom door._

_Sneaking out felt anticlimactic, following in Sasha’s footsteps around the familiar traitorous creaks in the floor, listening for a sound that their plan had somehow been sensed. They hadn’t been that clumsy in years, but it never hurt to think up an excuse for being up. Sasha eased open the door, practiced fingers keeping the latch from clicking before she swung the door open just enough to let herself out. That narrow slit had been enough for both of them when they were small, but he was getting too broad to shrink the way Sasha did, making his heart thump as he dared opening the door another centimeter to squeeze through._

_Nothing. Not a creak or cough from their father’s room, not a bump from a disturbed neighbor, not even the meow of the nosy cat next door. He pulled the door shut behind himself, twisting the lock closed before someone got lucky. And they were out, taking the stairs softly as a precaution, then closing the complex door as softly as the doors to their rooms or the apartment, as if they still might be heard by anyone who cared enough to drag them back. He stopped at the bottom step, wondering who would care in the morning, or who would shrug and forget their names in a month. It was morbidly interesting, picturing the look on his father’s face when he found them. Or didn’t, hopefully._

_“Should we…I dunno, leave something?” he asked Sasha at the end of the block, doubt starting to bite at his stomach._

_“You don’t leave a forwarding address when you skip town, dumbass,” Sasha reprimanded, as if she was somehow an authority on something neither of them had ever done._

_“What if they call the cops?” he had to ask. He kicked a chunk of sidewalk, wondering if the cops would even take a call from this street._

_“Don’t be stupid, let’s go,” Sasha insisted, walking backward and waving her hand at him to hurry up._

_He wondered why he was asking these questions now, instead of days ago, or weeks, or when they were eight and this thought had first crossed their minds, after their mother had shown them how easy disappearing could be. Sasha stopped at the end of the block, her tapping her foot impatiently. Maybe he had forgotten something, and that was nagging him. But packing had been easy, and the most personal thing, the gun, weighed the most._

_“I’m going_ **_now_ ** _,” Sasha stepped back off the curb, looking around her. “So, are you coming, or not?”_

_Sasha dropped the other foot to the street, waiting for his decision. It might be a bluff, that she was leaving him here. It was probably a bluff, just a mocking challenge to see if he would keep up with her. She had used that on him so many times before, knowing he wouldn’t let her get into trouble alone. Sasha bounced on her feet, settling her bag on her shoulder and backing down the main street, where the port was waiting. He couldn’t let her leave without him. And where would he leave a note anyway?_

_Sasha grabbed his hand as he reached the curb, dragging him with her as she broke into a run. He was left tripping over his feet, but he had no choice but to keep up now. He tucked his free hand under the bag, feeling the pistol rest under his palm, calming him enough to run evenly with Sasha until they reached the port._

_It was quieter than it was during the day, but there was still a bustle, haggard workers stacking crates and rolling shipments into the resting ships. He could stay here and work with them if he wanted certainty, sentencing himself to a life of coming home covered in dust from the various colonies as their goods came in and crushed his back and shoulders. He recognized some of the workers, a handful catching his eye and looking away before they had to ask or answer questions they didn’t have time for. Nam-Gi was waiting for them, looking impatient over a burned down cigarette. They had almost missed their chance because of his hesitation. He kept his sweating fingers clasped around Sasha’s confidently dry hand as they stopped in front of the cargo ship._

_“Skin of your teeth, kiddies,” Nam-Gi warned, flicking the spent cigarette to the floor and holding out a dirt smudged hand. “Make it worth it.”_

_Sasha pinched his hand, and he took out the gun, making sure it was pointed deferentially at the floor as he handed it over. Nam-Gi bared crooked teeth in a cold smile, inspecting the gun with the muzzle leveled at their faces. Their father had built this one personally and treated it like a business card to flash when he needed to catch someone’s eye. It was a good gun, with more than enough power to make a point if Nam-Gi wanted to. But then the muzzle dropped, and Nam-Gi nodded in satisfaction, tucking the pistol away._

_“You just bought passage to the next dump,” Nam-Gi congratulated, pointing the two of them up the boarding ramp and calling the crew to order._

_“You gonna tell?” the question surprised him as it came out of his mouth._

_Nam-Gi snorted wetly, thinking the question over. He shouldn’t have asked, he was giving Nam-Gi new ideas to gouge them with. Nam-Gi would probably let it slip anyway, after a couple of drinks or a couple of bucks._

_“Cost you a clip,” the smuggler bargained._

_At least his luggage was lighter, he thought as he handed the ammunition over to Nam-Gi’s expectant hand and followed Sasha up the ramp while struggling to straighten his packed clothes. Sitting on the floor behind crates of musty potatoes, he felt better when Sasha handed him the second gun from her bag, keeping her own hand on the pistol she had claimed as hers. They were still together, that was the most important thing._

_His brief relief died as soon as the engines coughed to life. Leaving home was one thing, leaving town was plausible, but leaving the planet was something you bragged about doing but never actually did. The floor of the ship started to shake as they climbed, the pressure of the altitude squeezing his head and making it ache. At least they knew people here, even if they hated more of them than they liked. At least they could crawl back if they had to, even if it meant a beating from familiar hands. They shouldn’t be leaving like this, the pressure started to press behind his eyes and hurt his head. They should be together, at least, they should be home, they should be with him. They should never have left, they should be with him, his head was screaming at him._

North woke up with his hands pressed into his eyes, the spike stabbing into his head switching to the nape of his neck. He was still disoriented, his nausea from the ship’s rumbling and the residual apprehension blending with Theta’s confusion and desperation as he searched for the safety they had lost somewhere in the belly of the ship.

“Theta,” North grunted, rolling over to shield his eyes from his clock’s piercing glow. “Go to something else.”

Theta tried to obey, but wanted answers, circling back to the memory compulsively, intermixed with flashes of _Omega_ ’s worst streets and the Citadel parks, North talking with the others in the dining hall, and the other AIs standing at attention in the classroom, North’s disgruntled squabbling with York. 

“It’s just a dream,” North promised, feeding Theta whatever came to mind: drinks at the bar, nestling into a bunk after a long day, South in a good mood. “It doesn’t stay if you don’t let it.”

“Sorry,” Theta lamented. “It’s hard.”

“Yeah, I know,” North assured, slipping his hand into his desk drawer and groping for aspirin he knew had run out.

It had been a long time since North had gotten lost in that particular dream. He had always shown Theta that ditching home had had it’s upsides: mostly downsides in the first few years, but you had to hit rock bottom before you rose up from the wreckage. It had even introduced them to the right clients, after a short 'apprenticeship,' and their employer had left them with a nice stockpile of merchandise, once South had tested that merchandise on his head. Theta hated this memory, maybe that was why, North reasoned, rolling out of bed and limping to the sink with his eyes tightly shut.

The cold water broke Theta out of the spiral of distress and cleared North’s head from the pinching fog. He could steer Theta better now, distracting the AI with a review of the combat training from the day before. Theta had been experimenting with multiple shields, successfully juggling shields on Wash, South, and Connie for twenty seconds before they had shattered from the stress. Wash had declared it his best trick and even Connie had been impressed, giving Theta a rare burst of confidence. He was starting to like feedback from Wash and Carolina, instead of fearing comments from anyone but North and York. He was even coming around to Connie, when she wasn’t complaining. Theta was still struggling with South, his fear of South’s harsh temper at odds with North’s fraternal attachment. He had puzzled over the technicalities of siblings for weeks, tentatively attaching the term to Delta and latching onto it with more confidence as Delta started to bend the rules after Sigma and Gamma’s introductions. He was still deciding if it fit, but it was the word he most often attached to the AIs these days. Maybe that confusion was where his fixation was coming from. 

“I wasn't trying to wake you up,” Theta broke back into North’s thoughts. “But it’s weird when you sleep. I can’t do _anything_.”

“Wanna go into storage?”

“No. That’s worse. Can I use your computer?”

Theta flashed to North’s desk, standing hopefully on the keyboard. It was an innocent question in North’s head. Theta hated being alone in storage, but sitting in North’s head as the agent slept left him with several hours to wile away in stillness and silence. Being released to North’s computer would keep him close, but give him something to do. Neither Delta or Theta were impressed by the games York and North had introduced them to, but Delta settled for dissecting them to entertain himself while York worked, and Theta liked running through them to experience new scenarios. All the AIs had been interested in the extranet as an extension of the company’s databases, but the Director had given strict orders to keep the AIs contained.

“You know the rules, bud, no computers without me, ” North said. “What time is it?”

“Five,” Theta said, shuffling his feet on the desk sheepishly. “I can wake you up in two hours, I promise to be quiet until then.”

North stretched his shoulders, going through the motions of considering the offer before Theta lapsed into anxiety again. Two hours of sleep either way was nothing. He was awake now, the radiating pain in his neck still deciding whether to fade and a restless AI telling his brain to stay awake.

“Just let me check my mail, then you can play around,” North compromised.

Theta stepped aside eagerly, standing beside North curiously as he brought up his mail. One message in an otherwise empty box, no surprises there. Theta looked up at the computer screen with interest, oddly excited to open a new message from Steve Cortez. Theta had been rattling off Alliance military structure ever since he had read the file on the Normandy crew, even going so far as to ask York where he and Connie fell in the hierarchy. Steve Cortez and James Vega’s messages were something new for the AIs: a glimpse into the outside world that was unfiltered by their handlers and databases or constrained to a glance of passing opponent. Despite North's best efforts, Theta had decided it was better than computer games.

 

 

_Nate,_

_I don’t think the line ‘how’d a nice guy like you end up in the military,’ works as well when we’re both enlisted. Long long long story short, I enlisted with the hope of exploring the galaxy on the Alliance’s dime and securing our borders, everything the brochures tell you. Got that idea kicked out of my head at bootcamp and my first bases, but I finally got a glimpse when I started working as a pilot. Still a lot of time on stations with the Alliance ranks, but you run into alien officers and units. It wasn’t what the recruiters promised, but you meet good people, if you keep looking. It’s how I met James and Shepard, I just had to pay my dues in the early years like everyone else._

_What about you, how’d you get tricked into enlisting? Sorry- what inspired you to serve humanity, soldier? US schools were big on shipping their soldiers off world, but I know some units were practically nailed to Earth based on their credentials. Elliot did work in space, he said, but you said you joined his unit in London, so did you stick with them to get off Earth or stay off Earth? Or neither, but it’s usually either or in my experience._

_Because Vega has helpfully told me that ‘resume’s aren’t sharing,’’: no, no siblings. Only child of two only children. At least it kept holidays small. Dad served when he was younger, Mom was an engineer with a civilian job, he decided to stay with us. He was proud I enlisted, though. And my favorite color is green. And I like steak, which Vega says is too obvious, so I also like rhubarb pie. Your turn: color, food, and military station. Don’t tell James, but I might need to make friends outside the military one of these days._

_Steve_

 

 

“Military station?” Theta asked just as North almost chuckled. “You aren’t even allowed on military stations.”

“I’ve been on a couple of colonial bases,” North showed Theta the sparse bases he had found himself in. “I’ll ask Connie if I have to, to make sure I pick a good one.”

Theta nodded, walking over the desk and looking up at the email. North waited patiently as he felt Theta run through the email again, attaching Steve’s service file with his life story. Steve had left out the part where his father had died five years before the Reapers, his mother had followed a year later, and his husband less than three years later. Theta hesitated as he felt North’s knee jerk reaction of discomfort at gleaning that from a cold file, before North reminded himself that Steve had always just been to get information. Theta switched to Steve’s job, bringing a blueprint for a Trident smashing into North’s head. 

“Pilots must be cool,” Theta decided, projecting a miniature ship in place of his skateboard and tentatively making it glide around him on the desk.

“Four Seven Niner didn’t convince you?” North asked, holding out his hand in a makeshift landing pad for Theta to park his new toy on.

“Her too…I guess,” Theta’s agreement was contradicted by his thought of Four Seven Niner’s overt dislike for the AIs. “But you like pilots.”

Theta quickly adjusted his thinking, bursting the shuttle when he got distracted in feeding North a fond memory of Four Seven Niner’s cleavage to make amends. North shook his head, switching Theta’s attention away from that train of thought by recalling the Trident blueprint. 

“Four Seven Niner was something else,” North warned, wincing as Theta brought up North’s body language with Four Seven Niner in comparison to his similar brushes against Steve at the bar, picking up flirtatious cues North hadn’t even planned. “Yeah, that stuff doesn’t always mean the same thing.”

“Oh,” Theta seemed confused again, bringing up York and Carolina’s teasing and not so subtle gropes for another example, looking for anything similar between North and the other crew members and veering off when North pushed him away from a tryst in Four Seven Niner’s shuttle. “What else is it for?”

“Sometimes it’s just for fun,” North explained to Theta’s growing unease. “Like a game.”

“A game?” Theta seemed doubtful as he reviewed the latest email.

“Yeah. Just to mess around, to prove you still have the skill if you need it.”

North lost his winding reassurances in the wave of unhappiness from Theta. This wasn’t Theta’s usual anxiety or searching confusion. Theta rarely triggered a feeling of displeasure, but now he was unmistakable doubtful of North’s platitudes and refusing to let North distract him. North cringed as Theta brought them back to North’s similar lecture after his return from _Purgatory_. He knew that North was avoiding the truth that Steve was a way to get something the Director wanted. 

“You said we _shouldn’t_ look for competition,” Theta had never felt so accusing before. “That wanting to win was different.”

Theta felt North’s stolen rebuttal before North could use York’s justification from the bar. Theta instantly threw North’s annoyance back at him, reminding North that this was not what he did or should get sucked into. Before North could craft new reasoning, Theta had already added North’s promise that this wasn’t a job, followed by North’s hesitation over the new trove of personal information he had on Steve. 

“This isn’t fun,” Theta’s excitement to read the email was completely gone, replaced by a distaste North had never felt before. 

Theta tilted his head up for answers, turning his back to the dead computer screen. North couldn’t tell if Theta was disappointed with him, or adopting his anger at York, and North’s already depressed mood sank further at Theta forced him to stop brushing off his assignment. He hadn’t wanted to do this, and once he stopped letting himself pretend that he was just striking up conversation with Steve to keep himself entertained, it spoiled any personal or professional triumph he felt at getting the emails. 

Maybe that was the source of Theta’s restlessness. Experience made North distrustful and frustrated with local police, but North had ever had a grudge against the military, even before he had met York and Connie. The Alliance might be uptight and good at crashing a party if mercenaries made too much trouble, but they gave humanity a place in the galaxy, provided clients when they were in the area, and North had met enough soldiers to know that they had their own problems and weren’t above making friends in shadier places if they needed to, Reapers or not. Even Shepard was, given her convenient communication with the Shadow Broker and criminals like Jack. North had never wanted to fight the Alliance head on, and it was proving to be just as much of a pain in the ass to do as he had expected.

“Yeah, this isn’t the kind of fun I meant,” North tried to keep from confusing Theta more as he confused himself. “But…ok, you remember the first two jobs we did?”

Theta nodded, lapsing back into waiting for North’s explanation. Those first jobs with Theta had been back when getting equipment had been a matter of bribery, stealth, and the occasional threatening incentive, instead of erupting into a firefight and leaving casualties at each site. That was back when this had felt like a standard job, instead of a contracted commitment. Theta still saw those jobs as enjoyable after being cooped up in the base.

“That was easy and fun, before Commander Shepard and that crew showed up,” North encouraged. “Now we have to fight, because we have a job, and they have a job, and they are opposites. And people get hurt, like Maine, and Wash, and South.”

“But if we can keep away from each other while we’re _working_ ,” North emphasized the casual atmosphere of getting drinks in contrast to the commands and chaos on the battlefield. “People don’t have to get hurt as much. Us or them, it’ll be safer for both.”

North finished his explanation with a reminder of the lab on Nasurn, startling Theta with the sound of the Pelican wing smashing into the underside of the Normandy’s shuttle to knock it off course. Theta pondered the confrontation.

“Do Agent Carolina and Agent York and Agent Connecticut want that too?” Theta asked. “Agent Carolina doesn’t like them.”

“Not in the way, but we’re trying to fix that,” North focussed on Carolina’s earlier ambivalence towards the Normandy crew, instead of her growing interest in settling scores. “And York and Connie never really wanted to fight their old boss.”

Theta considered North’s expansion on York’s old argument, accepting it tentatively beside quiet discontent. North held out his hand again, offering Theta a picture of the Pelican as a prompt to land a hologram again. Theta did so reluctantly, dutifully playing while North tried to push the question of Steve Cortez aside. Emotional contradictions didn’t sit well with Theta, and even North lacked the skills to explain the mixture to him. He’d have to ask York if he had had a similar struggle with Delta.

Theta stayed subdued for the next hour and a half, slowly cheering up as North prepared them both for a day of training. By the time North was showered and shaved, Theta was back to piloting a miniature shuttle cheerfully. Breakfast was quick and quiet that morning, the base back to business after the short respite. South automatically handed North an apple on his way by, licking melting butter off her toast as they made their way to the training room.

South groaned, jerking North to a stop and turning to peer into the observation balcony. Carolina, Wyoming, and Wash were already up and armored, looking down at the training floor in uncharacteristic order. North bid a leisurely breakfast goodbye, nibbling the apple as he joined the gathering just in time to see Connie hit the training floor with Tex’s black boot print on her helmet.

Tex hadn’t been much to look at, from the brief glimpses North had gotten of her as she ducked into the medical wing, strolled out of the dining hall with a plate, or closed and locked the door of her room. Not bad looking, but nothing especially intimidating or impressive on her own. A fresh set of armor changed that, the slate black metal harshly reflecting the lights of the training room. Bulked out and formidable, Tex hardly looked winded, as she bounced on her feet while York rose to one knee. Connie lurched up, her pained shout audible as Tex’s roundhouse kick flung her past York.

“Aaaah, fuck,” York scrambled up from where he had been kneeling, running into Tex’s punch.

York twisted, letting Tex’s fist glance off his helmet, his armor cracking against Tex’s as she sidestepped his leg sweep. York looked tired, trying to elbow his helmet straight in the same motion of blocking Tex’s second punch to his left side. Tex ducked, sliding out from under York and elbowing him in the back of his neck, kicking him down into Connie with the fresh momentum.

“How long has she been curb stomping them?” South asked.

“Ten minutes,” Wash fidgeted, jumping nervously to the crash of York against the wall. “Er, Connie’s been at it for fifteen, York joined her to make it a challenge.”

It was almost a laughable idea, with York and Connie panting on the training room floor and Tex still wound with aggressive energy. North nudged Wash to the side, feeling Carolina’s nerves stab into the tense silence as Connie stayed on the floor and York pushed himself up using Connie’s shoulder. Mimicking Tex’s bounce, York shook out his shoulders as if Wash had just shrugged him off. Tex cracked her neck, springing forward mid-crack to smash into York’s side just as his heels left the ground.

York whipped sideways, grabbing Tex’s elbow and rolling with her savage hit, flinging her away from him as they hit the floor. Connie ran in from his left, kicking Tex in her stomach to send her skidding over the floor while York rolled up.

York stayed still once he’d stood, and North saw him hop straight as he used Delta to compensate for a broken or dislocated something while Connie caught her breath beside him. Tex sat up from her landing, twisting off her helmet to wipe blood away from a nick on her cheek before pushing herself to stand and walking confidently to shake York’s hand. York tucked his helmet under his arm, accepting Tex’s handshake while the telltale marks of a split lip and black eye faded.

“I think we’re good here,” York wheezed up to the audience before asking Tex, “Ready for the next level?”

“As long as it’s not more reflex drills,” Tex agreed, already snapping on her helmet.

York had already started to amicably laugh when Tex turned away, leaving York chuckling and Connie glowering at empty air. York looked up to the other’s, pulling a world-weary face while Tex rebuckled her helmet in preparation for the promised challenge. 

“Maybe she’s a paid puncher,” Wash suggested. “You could make some cash from those moves.”

“We already knew hand-to-hand was her best event,” Carolina didn’t sound as impressed. “Now we have to test everything else. North, South, suit up. Wyoming, get Gamma ready.”

North nodded for both of them, stealing a last bite of apple before handing a confused Wash the final half. South was invigorated by the idea of a fight, beating North in and out of the locker room. North settled his armor on his stiff shoulders and head, sighing in relief when Theta transferred himself to the armor’s power supply.

“Agent Texas hits harder than Connecticut,” Theta observed, sitting in North’s head as he jogged back to the training room. “And Wyoming hasn’t used Gamma yet, are we going to spar him?”

“We’ll see,” North tossed his helmet and listened for the grind of pillars.“But my guess is…”

North felt torn between excitement and exhaustion as he walked straight into the paintball gun South extended to him. Even Maine had beaten him to the team huddle and had already loaded his gun. Gamma was away from Wyoming and following in Sigma’s trail, drifting through the other agents while Wyoming loaded the lightweight pistol. North lost track of Theta’s projection as the AI hid underfoot, sending North a worried visual of York’s black eye fading under Delta’s disapproving supervision. North laughed the mark off, more interested in Tex’s skeptical inspection of her guns as she loaded in the paint pellets.

“She looks mad,” Theta joined North in observing. “I don’t think she likes us. She never eats with us.”

“Give her a couple days,” North thought. “It’s hard getting settled for us too.” 

With her helmet off and her damp bangs trailing in her eyes, Tex didn’t look so indestructible. She looked tired and shaken. If North hadn’t witnessed her wiping the floor with York and Connie, he wouldn’t have pegged her as a mercenary. She had her weapons on display, but she didn’t bear the marks of a mercenary: her nose was too delicate to have suffered a break, even the skin on her hands was smooth instead of a map of scars from brawls or weapons, and all of her gear was new instead of worn to perfection. Her poker face could use work too as she turned over the paintball ammunition unhappily while South and Wash shoved her aside to get their share. 

“Yeah, I remember those days,” North offered as he got his ammo, helpfully snapping it into the gun under Tex’s nose. “The doctors around here kinda treat us like pin cushions. The armors worth it though.”

“Hope it can hold up to paintball stains,” Tex holstered her loaded gun an instant after North.

“We have’em made special, they pack a punch,” South interrupted. “Yo, Wash!”

Wash was already ducking behind Maine, squawking along side the “pop” of South’s paint pellet engulfing the heel of his boot. Tex tipped her head discerningly as paint foam sealed Wash’s foot to the floor. The soft foam hardened almost instantly, seeping into the seams of Wash’s armor and fusing with the floor in a vice. Wash caught himself just before he fell into the floor, twisting indignantly and wiggling his foot as the paint started to crack.

“This is why people call you a bitch,” Wash informed South, smashing his fists into the paint and shaking fragments off.

“No, this is why people call _you_ -“

“Save it for the training floor,”Carolina smacked South on the top of her helmet. Flicking her finger at North, Carolina pulled him aside, guaranteeing North an even worse day than he’d braced himself for. Looking over the squabbling agents, Carolina, pointed South toward North and from Wyoming to herself, announcing, “Now that that’s done, who else do you want?”

“To be on your team?” North tried a winning smile. “Or York’s?”

“York’s sitting this one out so we have even numbers,” Carolina said. “Unless you want Maine or Wyoming to be captain.”

“Wash. I’ll take Wash.”

“Maine,” Carolina added to North’s snort, “I want him to go easy so we can actually see what Gamma and Texas can do.”

Looking over his options, North’s first choice was abdication. Connie was in a foul mood, and Tex was an unknown. South didn’t like collaborating with anyone, and Theta didn’t want to work with any of them, which would only make North’s job harder. 

“I’ll take Texas,” North decided to use Theta’s abstract fear of Tex to his advantage. “You get Gamma and Maine, I get the newbie and Wash. Spread the fun around.”

“Connie’s gonna be fun,” Carolina sighed. “Form up, let’s get this over with.”

That was a good sign, North didn’t swear for Theta’s sake, bracing himself as York shouldered him on his way to the observation room. Instead of grinning, York straightened his face at North’s expression, patting North with one hand as he loosened his own armor. 

“Rough night?”

“For all the wrong reasons,” North nodded.

York hummed in sympathy, pushing Wash in North’s direction on his way by. South joined them, and North nodded to Tex, who fell into line slowly, glancing at the other team. York took his place in the observation room, ordering F.I.L.S.S. to set up the course to give the teams time to organize.

“Basic rules. Get the flag or eliminate the other team. Get shot, you’re out, stay down,” North kept it brief. “Wash, you’re on defense with South.”

“But-“

“Tex and Gamma are up for assessment, not you,” North reminded South, nodding to Tex in apology for the blunt explanation. “Tex and I will go for the flag.”

“Paintballs only?” Tex asked.

“That’s the idea,” South muttered.

“If you want to use hand to hand, you can, but it won’t count as a shot,” North said. “This is the gun portion.”

To North’s surprise, Tex nodded without further argument, checking the extra paintballs she had on her belt . Wash checked his own nervously, brushing off his armor when South rolled her eyes at him. North flipped on his helmet, giving Theta a chance to survey the battlefield as he met Carolina in the middle.

“All set?”

“Yup. But remember, no energy shields in paintball,” Carolina grinned at North’s disappointment.

“ _And_ I get a handicap?” North tried not to snap over an old rule that York, Maine, and Wyoming avoided. “Nice, Carolina.” 

“That’s all I can do,” Theta protested from North’s shoulder.

“Hey, we need to make sure North hasn’t gone soft,” Carolina soothed Theta while snickering at North.

“Fine. Theta, no shields,” North agreed before adding, “Carolina, no nitro boost.” 

Carolina nodded and shoved North back to his team as the pillars locked into place, leaving North to herd them into place, check their headsets,and let Wash place the flag. F.I.L.S.S started the countdown as the took up positions, Tex moving to the opposite side of the arena before North had issued any more instructions.

The round started, and Wyoming and Connie were already moving, leaving Carolina and Maine on defense. North took a practice shot at Wyoming, learning he had to compensate to the left as the paint ball burst into a pillar instead of Wyoming’s back. 

“Keep an eye on Carolina,” North warned. “She’s fast even without a boost.”

“So we move faster,” Tex decided.

North was just starting to strategize a plan when Tex left her cover, drawing a hale of fire from Connie and Wyoming as she ran straight through the pillars, skidding behind one just in time for it to become a spiked sculpture.

“Fantastic,” North groaned, ducking to the next cover to the rattle of fire. “Yeah, you two can cover us any time now!”

South obligingly shot past Maine’s head and Wash sprayed the pillar Maine ducked behind with well intentioned colors. North scanned the floor, looking for a glimpse of the opposing defense or a hint of Gamma’s new ability, with the hope that Carolina had fallen into the habit of abusing a hard offense against North’s solid defense. Maine slid around his cover, leaping over Wash’s wild shot to huddle with Wyoming. 

“Watch it!” North warned to the pop of Connie’s gun coating Tex’s cover with paint. “Ok, South, slow Maine down, Wash, keep Wyoming still, Tex and I’ll go after-“

North snapped his head back at the sound of Wash’s shout, barely stifling a curse at the sight of Wash hitting the floor with his knees encased in paint. South did swear, leaving Wash sprawled face down and forcing Maine back into cover. North swept over the floor again, jumping to the singular pop of South firing to her side.

“Ow!!!” Wash yowled. “I stayed down!!!”

“That was for getting shot,” South turned her gun back on their opponents.

“Will you all take this seriously!?” Carolina shouted, reassuring North that she was farther back than he’d thought.

North had been planning to, but he had lost control some time after the start of the round, getting Wash shot, losing track of South’s vantage point and never in control of Tex, it seemed. As if to prove his point, Tex’s armor screeched against the floor as she broke into a sprint from cover, drawing Connie and Wyoming’s attention.

Connie straightened from her cautious crouch as Tex tripped over the floor, the points of Connie’s paintball just missing Tex’s armor as she leapt out of the way, twisting in the air and firing from in front of her chest. Connie’s shoulder burst into a spike of color, gluing her to the pillar she had been sheltering behind, and Tex shoved herself forward as she landed, hugging the shadow of another pillar. Tex leaned against her new shelter, checking her ammunition and glancing back to where North was waiting.

“I think we can get Maine, he’s bunkered down behind that pillar in front of you,” Tex advised calmly. “You hit high, I’ll hit low.”

North couldn’t tell if it was pride or calculation in Tex’s voice, but he wasn’t sure it mattered, and he didn’t have time to ponder it too long. Carolina and Maine had moved up, staggering behind Wyoming and putting pressure on North’s crumbling defensive line. If Tex wanted to show off, it was her time to do it.

“Hit high?” North asked. “Any suggestions?”

“Your AI can make containment fields, right?” Tex asked.

“No shields,” North reminded.

“Don’t need one. How much weight can its field hold?”

Theta was already running calculations, measuring the height of the pillar and judging the distance to Maine on the other side. They had never tried to test Theta’s fields as anything more than a shield and a containment bubble. Then again, if it kept things in, and bullets out, it might be able to hold weight for a short time.

“I…I think it can work,” Theta ran another calculation past North. “It’ll take a lot of power, but I think I can do it.”

“Only one way to find out. Ready?”

Theta agreed, and North bolted, sensing movement around him as he broke from cover. He fired off a shot to keep Carolina at bay, instinct telling him that Wyoming was lining up his shot. Theta fed North an image of where he’d place the field, and North jumped.

It hurt, was North’s first realization as he sprang up and off the shield pane, the field bursting under his jump. The strain crushed his head for an instant, and then it was gone, leaving North airborne and barely missing the pillar as he few over it. Maine snarled in surprise as his knees locked from Tex’s shot, and North almost regretted pulling the trigger as his paintball burst over Maine’s helmet, snapping him back against the pillar. North flipped, landing just beyond Maine’s splayed feet.

"That was _cool_ ," Theta approached bragging. 

A stunned silence fell over the floor, broken by Maine shattering the paint around his head and wrenching his knees apart with a sharp snap. North stepped away as Maine mopped paint off his visor, and Tex straightened up from bracing her gun. Maine flicked paint off of his armor, sinking to the floor and spreading out, blocking North from using the site for cover, killing any sympathy North had felt.

“Not bad,” North praised, looking to Tex for another plan.

“Nice shot,” Tex nodded, reloading her gun and leaning around the pillar. "Ready to take out the other two?"

“South, keep Wyoming pinned, I’ll move up and-“

“Look out!”

Theta’s panic kicked North’s stomach, followed by a drain of power that left North’s bones aching. Sigma and Theta flashed into view, clustering together as they watched Theta encase Gamma and Wyoming in a dome. Electricity crackled against the dome’s surface, radiating from Wyoming’s armor and through Gamma in scorching blue streaks.

“Whoa, whoa, time out!” York boomed down from the observation room. 

Gamma dimmed and disappeared, leaving Wyoming trapped in Theta’s field as he flashed to stand with the other AIs, materializing directly in front of a wavering Theta.

“You are cheating,” Gamma accused. “Drop the shield.”

“Your attack is too strong,” Theta insisted, flickering uncertainly as he drew more power from North. “It’ll hurt.”

“You are interfering with the test,” Gamma complained, drifting away from Delta as the AI joined them. “Drop the shield.”

“You have not adjusted your attack for sparring,” Delta advised while Theta shook his head. “An attack of that strength is unsafe for Agents North Dakota and Texas.”

“The attack is not fatal,,” Gamma dipped in the air as Texas and Carolina approached. 

“It is still unsafe for the other agents,” Delta argued. “We are not meant to hurt them.”

“Oy, North! Tell the light bulb to let me out!!” Wyoming called, punching the barrier around him.

“I am sure Gamma was only trying to show his potential for his assessment,” Sigma interjected at Carolina. “But weakening his ability should be enough to continue the game.”

Theta shivered, guilt for disobeying Carolina’s rules and drawing Gamma and Sigma’s annoyance starting to mix with his terror. Delta stayed still and silent, glancing up to the observation window to where York was still standing. Theta ducked behind Delta, dissolving his shield silently.

“You ok?” Carolina asked North, reaching for his helmet. 

“Yeah,” North wiped cold sweat off his face. “Theta just got startled.”

“Is he ok?” Tex asked, looking at the grouped AIs curiously. “You both look jumpy.”

North was still trying to discern that himself, struggling to sort his own confusion from Theta’s fear of the electric burst and uncertainty about communicating so openly with the other AIs. Theta stayed behind Delta as Gamma drifted away without another word, taking his position on Wyoming’s shoulder as the other agent’s joined them.

“Fuckin’ hell, North, when are you gonna learn to control that thing?” Wyoming asked.

“After you adjust Gamma so he doesn’t electrocute me,” North’s frustration came to the surface. “This is a drill, not the real thing.”

Wyoming frowned, glancing at Gamma in a gesture recognized too well. Gamma dimmed, going around Wyoming’s shoulder to stand silent and obedient like the other AI. South placed a hand on North’s elbow, glaring at the AI indiscriminately and only making Theta’s anxiety worse.

"Wyoming, turn it down, you can test it on full blast with mechs," Carolina ordered. "Everyone else, back to training."

“Do we need to finish?” Connie asked. “I think Texas and Gamma have shown they can do damage.”

“Sort of…” Wyoming grumbled at North and Gamma simultaneously.

“Agent North Dakota,” Delta stood on North’s free shoulder opposite Theta. “Your pulse is elevated and erratic. Do you require medical assistance?”

“Just adrenaline, tell York to stop nagging,” North assured, just short of shooting a paint ball at the observation window.

“Bite me, Nate, that wasn't me,” York advised overhead. “Don’t be a dumb ass.”

“We’re two on two now,” Tex said to North. “We can handle it.”

North didn’t doubt that, looking at the paint still falling from Connie and Maine’s armor. It was a tempting offer, with his head and joints aching and his muscles shaking under clammy skin. It was Tex’s test, he was just teaching her to be part of a team she didn’t seem to want or need. Then again, leaving her with South alone probably wouldn’t convince her that teamwork was how they ran things around here.

“Don’t make me pull rank on you,” Carolina jokingly threatened, making the decision for him.

Tex held out her hand, taking one of North’s remaining paintball clips and handing the other to South. Delta stayed on North’s shoulder as he limped up the stairs, wondering if he should ask Carolina for the right to command from the observation room. Leaving his helmet on the table, North pulled a chair to sit by York to watch the disaster. 

“All good?” York asked Delta returned to his shoulder, pretending not to ask North.

“Theta’s defensive measures seem effective,” Delta reported. 

York nodded slowly, joining North in observing the remainder of the test. Tex’s strategy had changed, making her advance more cautiously without North to cover her back. Gamma was still out, but Wyoming only used him once, scorching South’s armor an instant before South’s paintball hit his exposed leg.

“That is _nasty_ ,” York said under his breath, glancing at Delta where the AI was observing the round on the window sill.

"Yeah, good call Theta," North praised.

South swore as Carolina’s paintball engulfed her shoulder and Carolina ran past, lowering her gun as she neared the exposed flag. North found that he was disappointed when Tex missed, her fire bursting over the floor under Carolina’s feet.North and York cringed together when Carolina crashed to the floor, kicking her boots against the entangling paint spikes. Tex’s next shot hit Carolina straight in the ribs.

Tex lowered her pistol calmly, walking to Carolina’s flag and pulling it free from the stand. Propping the captured flag on her shoulder, Tex returned to the center of the floor and tossed the flag to the floor before twisting off her helmet.

“So,” Tex brushed back her ruffled bangs. “Do I get to keep the armor?”

“She’s really good,” Theta commented from beside Delta.

North and York mumbled their agreement, watching carefully as Carolina picked herself up, cracking paint from her armor on her way to meet Texas over the flag. Carolina kept her helmet on, but extended her hand, giving Tex a short handshake.

“Seems like it,” Carolina announced.

Tex sighed, tugging at the straps of her armor and looking to the observation window expectantly. North searched for the Director, jumping when he appeared from the stairwell, straightening his glasses on his nose. Carolina yanked off her helmet, standing shoulder to shoulder with Tex. York sighed to himself as the Director said something softly to Carolina, raising his voice to announce, “That will be sufficient. Dismissed.”

“Great,” York groaned.

“She’s good,” North agreed with Theta. “We can use that.”

“Yeah,” York agreed curtly. “That’s not…yeah, yeah, we can. Yeah, she’s damn good.”

North leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes now that that was officially decided. He should have accepted Theta’s offer of two more hours of sleep. He needed to get his own bottle of painkillers, before York had to split the dose any further. He needed to stop trying stupid stunts. York walked away to leave North in peace as the other agents filed from the floor in awkward and resentful silence nursing bruises and battered pride. Trying to think upbeat thoughts, North dragged himself from his chair, stripping his armor quickly and leaving Wash and Maine sulking in the locker room and Wyoming inspecting his armor for damage.

“Any problems?” North asked as politely as he could.

“Not from that,” Wyoming scoffed. “Guess we’ll have to wait for a real field test to tell.”

Well, he’d tried, North decided, locking his room when he got back and buried his face in his pillow. If he were concerned with rank, he’d drag himself back to training for at least another hour. Maybe he was going soft, but he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t have the energy to sit through South’s tantrums, Connie’s constant complaining, York’s teasing, Wash’s inexperience, and Carolina’s injured ego today, let alone Maine and Wyoming.

“Um…” Theta appeared on the pillow beside him. “Do you want me in storage?”

“Nah,” North promised. “I think I just need a nap.”

“Ok,” Theta agreed, dimming himself respectfully. “Your omnitool buzzed.”

North cut off another groan, sitting up and opening his omntiool screen, his heart and stomach sinking at the new message blinking on the screen.

 

 

_Nate_ ,

_Looks like I’ll be making it back to the Citadel sooner than expected. I don’t want to get into it, but it's safe to say we’d welcome some drinks and relaxation if you, Elliot, and Tissot wanted to join in. I’d give you more details when I can, but we’ll be there tomorrow, probably for a couple days. I just wanted to give you a head’s up, I guess, if you were in the area._

 

_Steve Cortez_

 

 

 

North rested his head in his hand, reading over the message again and trying to remind himself that this was the progress York had had in mind. It didn't feel like progress, it felt like a problem. This could be a very bad sign, he realized, if they were making their own progress report. They shouldn’t have tried getting involved with Shadow Broker, now every information source in that tangled web would have an eye out for them.

“Are you going to tell York and Carolina?” Theta tentatively asked, looking up at North for guidance.

“Yeah,” North rolled out of bed as if he had a choice in the matter. “Let’s go tell York the good news."


	20. Chapter 20

Even as he felt cruel for it, Kaidan had never been happier to set foot on the Citadel. He hadn’t rested for more than three hours since Jack had started lashing out, and he had spent most of his time awake, talking Jack through another migraine or containing her biotic spasms. Liara wasn’t much better, putting on a brave face while she tried to juggle her work and helping supervise Jack’s condition. Shepard hadn’t slept more than a restless hour, pretending to doze in a pile of blankets on the floor near Jack’s den under the desk.

After nine hours of struggling to keep herself from rampaging, Jack was exhausted. Stripped of her make up and huddled in the shadows, she had looked almost childlike, reminding Kaidan of the kids who hadn’t made it out of BAat. In contrast to a broken trainee, Jack had distracted herself by taking her pain and fear out on Kaidan, Liara, and anyone else who got in range that wasn’t Shepard. The understanding that Jack and Kaidan had cultivated between themselves quickly crumbled;  Jack loathed Kaidan’s attempts to instruct her, and Kaidan felt foolish and frustrated for trying. He was out of his element with Jack, and her already reckless behavior and destructive abilities would only get worse when she felt threatened. He sympathized as he watched the symptoms form the outside, but Jack was too dangerous to risk leaving unchecked.

“I can walk on my own,” Jack rasped, her throat raw from muffling cries of pain. Shepard obligingly stepped back, and Kaidan stayed at the agreed distance- close enough to intervene, far enough away to keep Jack from punching him.

Drawing a shallow breath, Jack walked through C-Sec security with her customary impatience and sarcasm. She played her part convincingly, swaggering confidently until she had reached a bench at the memorial park and taken a seat, her bruised fingers twisting around each other. This was going to be a step by step struggle of a trip.

“We could call a gurney,” Garrus suggested as the rest of the crew filed to join them.

“I don’t think Jack’d agree to that,” Kaidan warned. "And the last thing we need is them trying to restrain her.”

Garrus didn’t force the issue, gathering the others and retreating a respectful distance. Garrus had been working almost as hard as Liara, climbing through the Normandy’s service shafts with Kasumi to bring down food and water and medication Mordin sent down by the hour so the elevator didn’t disturb Jack, and passively accepting Jack’s decision to hurl a water glass just wide of his head. Kaidan doubted that Jack had intended to miss.

“She’s made it this far,” Liara reasoned. “All we have to do is get to the elevator.”

“All of us?” Joker asked, holding up his hands in a close measurement. “Kinda claustrophobic, don’tcha think?”

The majority of them nodded, shuffling remorsefully at the thought of being crammed in an elevator with Jack today. Everyone was more on edge than before, the foiled capture on Joab weighing heavier now that the collateral damage had followed them onto the ship.

Jack rose from her seat, and Kaidan almost heard her joints creak as she put effort into straightening up. Mordin cleared his throat, interjecting into the crew’s tension, “Perhaps small group best, until hospital check in. Others can follow shortly.”

Jack was already shuffling towards the elevator, carving out space around her with her dark looks and shaky posture. Liara tapped Kaidan’s shoulder, still pale from sitting with Jack for the last two hours to the Citadel and painfully grateful when Kaidan nodded in agreement and turned to stay with Jack. Shepard’s protests fell on deaf ears as Mordin summoned the elevator, giving Jack a wide berth as she entered and curled up in the corner behind Shepard, ignoring Kaidan and Mordin’s inclusion.

The asari doctor was already waiting for them, calmly clearing the waiting room and directing her assistants to make sure a room was prepared. The businesslike atmosphere made Jack freshly tense, and she surprised Kaidan when she tucked herself between him and Shepard to hide from the doctors. It was Kaidan’s instinct to assure Jack that Dr. Visla Daruswas one of the most qualified doctors in the field of biotics, but he elected to stay quiet before he gave Jack a new reason to be angry at feeling talked down to.

“Commander Shepard, Major Alenko,” Darus smiled in recognition from the crews many visits over the years. “Dr. Solus, it’s an honor.”

“Jack?” Kaidan found himself annoyed by Darus' soothing coo alongside Jack’s defensively bristle. “If you’ll follow me, we’d like to run some tests before-“

“You can take it out. There,” Jack snarled. “That should cover it.”

“Personally ran preliminary scans,” Mordin informed authoritatively. “Recommend extraction as soon as possible.”

Darus' cheerful front weakened as Mordin blinked expectantly at her and Jack glared, her scowl no less intense now that when she had thrown Kaidan across the room on the Normandy. Doctors who specialized in biotics were used to dealing with scared children and malfunctions in adults that were too far gone to treat quickly, and usually adopted the professionally sympathetic tone to match. Tucking the hand she had been about to offer to Jack into her pocket, Darus grimaced remorsefully.

“I’m afraid we won’t try anything invasive until we’ve run our own tests and scans. We’ll be as brisk as we can, but it’s procedure,” Darus said.

Jack grumbled softly, slinking out from the group and eyeing the bustling hospital staff suspiciously. Darus had her encouraging smile on again, but had the sense to dim it when Jack’s attention turned unhappily back to her.

“This way,” Darus pointed to the doors out of the waiting room.

“Can we go with her?” Shepard asked,just as the rest of the crew poured out of the elevator.

Darus was noticeably taken aback, surveying the crowd of impatient military types that had invaded her hospital, ending her inspection on Grunt. Kaidan saw her shake her head slightly, then reconsider when Jack stumbled, moving her feet for a defiant retreat.

“You may observe,” Darus offered generously. “Any more than that, and we’re violating safety procedures.”

Jack barely relaxed, turning over her shoulder to make sure Shepard had volunteered and staring at Kaidan until he realized he was being summoned as well, joined by Mordin without question. The rest of the crew took the hint and trickled to sit quietly, organizing themselves before Shepard had to say anything. Darus smiled gamely, heading for the doors without trying to coach Jack again.

“Make sure they don’t _do_ anything,” Jack hissed to Kaidan and Mordin, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Darus led them to a quiet room, sterile and sparsely furnished with a bed and one visitor chair in the corner. Jack wrinkled her nose at the sharp smell, defiantly taking the chair in the corner when Darus motioned to the bed.

“If you would wait outside, please?” Darus requested, rinsing her hands and indicating the bed again. “I’m afraid I can’t have you in here during my assessment. Insurance concerns.”

“Being Jack’s primary doctor, I will stay,” Mordin decided independently.

“I’m sorry, I can’t allow that,” Darus stood firm.

“I’m not a bomb,” Jack stomped to the bed, sitting on it with crossed legs.

“It’s procedure,”Darus balked when Jack finished her sentence for her with a sneer.

“Willing to risk it,” Mordin smiled in the face of Darus’ frustration. “Will sign waver, but, would rather not waste time. Given the problem. Sure you will agree, doctor.”

Darus blinked back at Mordin for a moment, replying, “Please stay behind me for the examination, Dr. Solus.”

Mordin cleared his throat contently, taking the empty chair. Jack sighed roughly, kicking her foot at the door. Shepard stopped waiting for Darus’ approval and backed out with Kaidan, leaning against the glass window from the outside. Kaidan stayed back, ready to objectively observe the standard tests. Shepard tapped her fingers against the glass as it darkened, giving Jack privacy until the window cleared to reveal her sulking in a hospital gown.

Jack looked even smaller in the hospital room and wardrobe, obediently lying back to let Darus run a scanner over her body. Her tattoos stood out harsh and bold in the bright light, uncharacteristically overwhelming her pale skin. Her mouth moved once when she sat up sharply, snapping at Darus before slowly lying back. Darus was brisk, reading the scans with practiced speed and keeping her findings to herself behind a perpetually calm expression. She had Jack run simple exercises, raising a weak barrier and lifting soft blocks to test her strength. The tests were an insult to any experienced biotic, and Kaidan had to admit he resented having to watch the patronizing tests from the sidelines. Jack obediently lifted the blocks above her head before hurling them against the back wall, disturbing Darus patient expression and bouncing one off of Mordin’s head. 

“Commander Shepard.”

The excluded duo breathed a collective sigh of relief when Dr. Chakwas smiled at them in the reflection of the window. The Normandy doctor had finally learned to embrace civilian life, lending her skilled hand to keep the hospitals running. Civilian work hadn’t softened her, her same penetrating look picking the members of her old crew apart. 

“Spectre Alenko,” Kaidan stooped his shoulders sheepishly at Chakwas’ knowing smile. “I heard you were having some trouble.”

“You could say that,” Shepard admitted, taking Chakwas’ hand warmly. “What are you doing here?”

“Darus asked me to assist,” Chakwas nodded to Jack bouncing the blocks repeatedly off the back wall. “I suggested Jack will be more cooperative with a familiar face. Excuse me.”

Darus pressed a button on her omnitool, and Kaidan could feel Shepard’s stress renew as a salarian doctor bustled past them to join Darus and Chakwas at Jack’s bedside. Speaking over her shoulder to Mordin, Chakwas unraveled an IV line, waiting for Jack to offer her arm. 

“That can’t be good,” Shepard paced in front of the door, straightening her uniform out of habit.

Before Kaidan could concoct a reassurance out of nothing, Jack sat up on the hospital bed, jabbing a finger at Kaidan and Shepard through the window. Kaidan pointed to himself in surprise, grimly relieved when Jack nodded behind flicking him off. The risks aside, it was impossible to deny how hard Jack fought.

“Their tests are even stupider than yours,” Jack groused as soon as Kaidan entered the room. “They’re giving me biotic blue balls with all this teasing.”

“Erm,” Kaidan grunted flatly before he walked into Jack’s trap if he tried to return her vulgar teasing. Jack scoffed, jutting her chin out at Darus for answers.

“You’re extremely dehydrated,” Darus said disapprovingly. “And your biotics certainly are acting sporadic. But there are no signs of tissue or brain damage around your implant.”

“That’s good,” Shepard guessed.

“To a point,” Chakwas elaborated. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t give us any additional information.”

“Implants rarely just die, especially this generation. Damage from a malfunction would tell me whether or not it needs to be extracted,” Darus continued clinically, putting her hand under Jack’s chin and prodding unwisely to look for swelling. “And how much damage the implant has sustained that might make removal more complicated.”

“But you can replace it?” Kaidan asked.

“I won’t have a certain answer until we inspect the implant, imaging can only do so much,” Darus admitted. “But, assuming it merely died from overuse as it appears, yes, I can.”

“Get to it then,” Jack yanked her head away from Darus’ hands, looking to Mordin and Chakwas to enact her decision. 

Darus rinsed her hands again, having a soft conference in the corner with Chakwas and the salarian while Mordin eavesdropped. Jack swung her leg, hugging her arms around her torso while she picked at the tape on her IV. 

“I’ve never had to _beg_ doctors to go poking around, like they’re doing charity or some shit,” Jack complained bitterly.

“They’re discussing their options,” Kaidan promised. 

“You mean covering their asses,” Jack retorted.

“Yeah,” Kaidan admitted, watching the doctors gesticulate importantly at each other. “That too. But she’s one of the best, she has her reasons. And Chakwas is here to observe.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Jack spat just as Kaidan expected.

“At least we can vouch for Darus,” Shepard soothed, rubbing Kaidan’s back for the attempt.

“Personally unpleasant, impeccable reputation,” Mordin agreed unhappily.

Jack stuck out her lip, threatening to look petulant before she caught herself just as Darus returned. The salarian doctor left with a detached air, gathering a flock of nurses around him as he dispensed orders.

“As things stand, we have to perform surgery to inspect the implant,” Darus sounded more confident. “Assuming the damage is contained to the implant, we can fit you with a new L-5, which should be straight forward.”

“What if the damage is more extensive?” Shepard asked.

“Then fitting a new implant could be more difficult, but I don’t think we’re at that point,” Chakwas assured. 

“Yippee,” Jack sneered, leaning back on her arms. “So, do you buy me dinner first, lead in with some more foreplay, or can we get to it?”

Darus smiled slightly, heralding the approach of yet another nurse bearing a new set of needles and syringes. Jack’s eyes widened in anticipation, a twisted mix of apprehension and excitement stealing onto her face. Shepard cleared her throat softly as Jack pushed out her arm, watching the needle snake under her skin with a swallow. Chakwas watched Jack’s face stealthily, taping the second line into place.

“Would like to observe as well,” Mordin stepped up beside Chakwas. “And would like implant for additional tests.”

“We can’t have you in the operating room, especially considering your injury,” Darus gestured to Mordin’s bandaged arm.

“But I’m sure some arrangement can be made for you, Dr. Solus,” Chakwas contradicted lightly. 

Mordin smiled indulgently at Chakwa’s support, standing straight and expectant that her recommendation would be followed. Darus’ weary expression slipped another notch before she pasted on a smile, conceding, “Of course, Dr. Solus. You may observe from behind shielding.”

Kaidan left the doctors posturing, looking down at a sigh from Jack. Jack was reclining placidly, staring wide eyed at the ceiling with something Kaidan would be forced to call bliss. Shepard replaced the doctor at Jack’s shoulder, drawing Jack’s attention.

“Told you they’d have the good shit,” Jack bared her teeth in an imitation of a grin.

“Don’t get used to it, we want to keep you out of the med bay,” Shepard teased, blocking when Jack swatted at her lazily.

“Spoooooiiil Spooort,” Jack accused, flicking Kaidan off as a lethargic afterthought.

“Yes, we do have the best medication available,” Chakwas lowered Jack's arm for her, patting her patient into place. “Commander, Major, if you can see yourselves to the waiting room. Mord- Dr. Solus, please follow us.”

Darus appeared to take charge, directing an orderly to transport the bed. Jack elbowed a tolerant Chakwas off, grabbing Shepard’s arm with clenched fingers.

“I’m gonna kick their asses when I get out of here,” Jack promised, staring fixedly from the drugs.

“Damn right,” Shepard confirmed, holding still while Chakwas pried Jack off.

“And _you_ ,” Jack’s looked turned on Kaidan. “I can still handle a gun.”

Kaidan chose not to respond to the threat as Jack’s eyes fluttered closed, making the room eerily quiet as the bed was rolled out and Jack was spirited away by a cluster of doctors, nurses, and a supervising Mordin. Shepard stared after them, reluctantly returning down the hall when a fresh gaggle of nurses came to straighten the room.

“How is she?” Tali asked as soon as Kaidan and Shepard appeared.

“How’re the _doctors_?” Vega asked sardonically, losing his grin when none of the crew laughed.

“Dr. Chakwas has arranged to assist, and Mordin convinced them he should observe, so that’s good for everyone,” Shepard joked back weakly.

"Good to have another friend in this place," Garrus said.

“Are they optimistic?” Liara asked tactfully, her hands clasped hopefully in front of her.

“They’ve already taken her in,” Kaidan explained when Shepard hesitated. “Better to move fast, before she hurts herself or it gets worse.”

“Now it’s just a waiting game,” Shepard finished, taking a seat in the nearest empty chair and watching the door.

It was torture, Kaidan thought as he took his own seat, relinquishing the seats next to Shepard to Tali and Garrus to keep her spirits up. Kaidan took shelter with Cortez and a dozing Liara, thankful that the waiting room wasn’t crowded.He heard Vega’s stomach growling across from him, but even Vega had been convinced into a worried silence.

“Want to stretch out?” Cortez rose preemptively to join Vega on the other row of chairs.

“Nah. I don’t think I’ll get sleep like this anyway,” Kaidan groaned, shaking himself awake. “We don’t all have to stay here, the crew should eat and rest while they can.”

“I think we all want to be here, thanks,” Joker observed irritably, unperturbed by Grunt taking Kaidan’s offer and stomping off. “You know we’ve fucked up when we put Jack in the hospital, and not the other way around.”

“She’s tough,” Kaidan agreed, closing his eyes.

Despite his prediction, Kaidan did sleep, snatching five minutes here and there in the three hour wait that unfolded. The work of the hospital flowed around them, hardly seeming to notice the crowd monopolizing the space in their waiting room. Vega produced a pack of cards, keeping Joker, Tali, Garrus, and himself busy and failing to lure Shepard from her vigil into a game. Liara slept more soundly, draping herself over the arm of her chair without complaint. Kaidan glanced over as Cortez squirmed, checking his omnitool for the fourth time in an hour

“Something wrong?” Kaidan asked, welcoming a distraction.

“Hmm?” Cortez looked up quickly, clearing his throat when he realized it was just Kaidan. “No. No, just checking messages. Out of habit.”

Kaidan’s exhausted sense of humor almost laughed at how guilty Cortez looked as he crossed his arms casually. Vega tapped his cards on the floor, stealing a knowing look at Cortez over his shoulder. 

“Nate giving you the silent treatment?” Kaidan teased.

“Na…No,” Cortez crossed his arms more tightly. “They might be stopping in for supplies, that’s all.”

Vega snorted something, triggering a ripple of tired snickers from the circle around him, and a chuckle escaped Kaidan when Cortez shifted in his chair restlessly, an uncomfortable color staining his face. Cortez rubbed his chin, unable to hide an embarrassed, yet hopeful, smile.  

“We’re resuppling while we’re here,” Cortez reasoned. “Once Jack is settled…”

“We could use a celebration after this,” Kaidan tried to soothe Cortez’s overworked conscience. “We get good where we can.”

Cortez tapped his feet, glancing at Shepard and shrugging, back to being serious as he compromised, “It’s a long shot, I’m not worried about it.”

Kaidan let the lie slide, going to join the card game before he fell into another bout of ineffective sleep. Vega should have bet money, with Kaidan losing three hands in a row before he resigned. Rounding Shepard’s chair, Kaidan offered Shepard his hand, letting her fiddle with it nervously as he asked, “Do you want me to go for a food run?”

“Rations for the troops?” Shepard swung their hands.

“And the commander,” Kaidan reminded.

“Is fine,” Shepard finished his suggestion, letting go of his hand.

Kaidan reached out without thinking, brushing his thumb over Shepard’s cheek. Shepard leaned into the support for a fleeting instant before both of them caught themselves, the crew around them in the public eye that always searched for weak spots and Shepard’s faults. Kaidan dropped his hand and Shepard ducked her head.

“The crew could eat,” Shepard advised.

“‘The crew’ is fine,” Joker interjected from the floor, leaning in to ask Vega conspiratorially, “Don’t you hate it when the folks fight?”

“Does that make you the problem child?” Kasumi asked while she looked at Joker’s hand over his shoulder.

“Of the many options,” Tali added, shuffling her cards through her hands. “Ugh, this is not going well.”

“ _That_ is because Joker stacked the deck,” Garrus said, tossing his cards down. “Or he’s bad at shuffling. But, given Kaidan’s taste in turian food, I think I’d…”

Garrus stood up and fell silent when the doors to the waiting room opened. Shepard scrambled up, the rest of the crew standing at assembled attention behind her while Mordin approached. Kaidan internalized a sigh of relief at the sight of Chakwas trotting to catch up with the salarian before he had a chance to break the news.

“Prognosis-“

“Excellent,” Chakwas cut in, talking over Mordin’s prim displeasure at being interrupted. “Jack certainly knows her biotics. The implant is a lost cause, I’m afraid, but there was no significant damage to the surrounding tissue, and Darus is replacing it with an L-5 implant as we speak.”

Kaidan hadn’t realized he hadn’t taken a full breath since the Normandy until Chakwas was done talking and her audience sighed in unison. Shepard’s arm jerked up, dropping to cross over her chest when she tried to hide the motion.

“Oh, thank the Goddess,” Liara murmured for all of them, resting a hand on Kaidan’s shoulder.

“We’d like to monitor her for at least 24 hours to ensure the procedure was successful, but we don’t expect any problems.”

“Neural function unaffected, appears physically and mentally sound,” Mordin finished, adding thoughtfully, “Relatively speaking, given the patient. Will inspect implant as soon as possible.”

Vega grabbed and jostled Cortez gleefully, joining Tali in a relieved laugh. Garrus clapped Shepard on the shoulders, studying the floor behind her to hide the relieved look on his face. Shepard straightened up, breaking into an exhausted smile.

“Thank you,” Shepard extended her hand. “Thanks for being here.”

“Please, I was the one who made the suggestion,” Chakwas clasped Shepard’s hand strongly. “I wouldn’t trust my crew with anyone else….excepting Dr. Solus.”

Kaidan added his own handshake, taking comfort from Chakwas’ confident grip before she moved on to greet the others. This was the best news they could have hoped for, and more than most got. Shepard brushed back her hair, sharing a congratulatory look with Garrus. Chakwas mingled with the crew, sneaking inspections as she went, from peering at Garrus’ new scars to a cursory glance over Tali for good measure.

“Jack will be in recovery for several hours,” Chakwas advised. “I would suggest bed rest for all of you, while you can.”

“Garrus, you have the code?” Shepard asked.

“I believe I said all of you, Commander,” Chakwas instructed kindly. “After all, the hospital staff would like the waiting room back.”

Dr. Chakwas placed a hand on her hip, looking at Shepard sternly just as Shepard started to protest. Kaidan saw Cortez cover his mouth while Garrus snickered for him, pulling a straight face when Tali elbowed him sharply. 

"Doctor's orders, Commander," Joker made no effort to hide his amusement. "Better listen before she writes you up."

“It does feel odd, Shepard,” Tali piped up. “Staying at your apartment without you.”

“Feels like we should pay rent, or somethin’,” Vega added. “And I’m flat broke, Lola.”

“Did you just…never mind,” Cortez sighed and Vega looked confused. “A couple hours with food and beds can’t hurt.”

“We might even enjoy it,” Kasumi thought aloud. 

“If we ever tried it,” Garrus chuckled.

Shepard rolled her eyes, holding up her hands in mock surrender. Dr. Chakwas patted Shepard’s shoulder, promising, “I’ll let you know as soon as she wakes up.”

Shepard nodded in defeat, joining the others without further resistance. Kaidan gave Chakwas another handshake before he followed, glad to see Garrus already making the necessary call to Grunt to report to Shepard’s apartment and surprised that the young krogan was still out of a holding cell. Joker split at the elevator, making his way back to keep EDI company while the ship was docked. Sitting in the cab to the housing district, Kaidan struggled to keep his eyes open, relief finally triggering exhaustion.

Shepard’s apartment was even more expansive than Anderson’s. Four bedrooms, a neat kitchen, comfortable furnished dining and living room for company, a luxurious study, and the obligatory bar, the apartment was more than enough to host the crew. It was a shame she was never there to enjoy it, Kaidan thought as he wandered into the kitchen. Glancing at the stove, Kaidan debated asking the crowd if they wanted to eat before his weariness killed the idea.

“Pizza?” Cortez asked as he joined Kaidan. 

“Your call, I’m not hungry,” Kaidan admitted, shrugging off Cortez's judgmental sigh.

“Uuuuugh,can I take this back to the ship?” Vega asked from where he was sprawled on the nearest couch. 

“Gonna cram it in your weight room?” Cortez teased.

“There would be room in my quarters,” Kasumi said, sitting cross-legged on a barstool.

“Fight it out,” Shepard encouraged, heading for the stairs up to her room.

“You aren’t going to eat something?” Liara called hopefully.

“I’ll pick something up on my way to the hospital,” Shepard waved the concern off. “Grab some sleep before I head back. You can distribute rooms?”

“Beds, couches…the floor,” Vega gestured to the grand apartment. “No problem.”

Flashing a thumbs up, Shepard disappeared over the landing, taking her hair down when she thought she was out of sight. Tali and Garrus wandered off, quietly claiming their customary room. Kasui was already gone, and a thump from the back room signaled that Grunt had staked his claim. Vega rolled over, already half asleep on the wide couch. 

“Are you going to the hospital?” Liara asked, unbuttoning her high collar.

“Probably,” Kaidan said. “Get some sleep, someone has to help hold down the fort.”

Liara didn’t argue, quietly retreating to Shepard’s study alone. Kaidan leaned against the wall for a break, running over the logistics in his mind. Two hours of sleep, snatching a meal on the way, then another day at the hospital while Jack was put through another slew of tests to prove she was safe. Kaidan almost envied Jack for getting a night of medicated mandated sleep.

“Hey,” Kaidan jumped awake to Cortez shaking him. "You're going to fall over like that."

“Uhm,” Kaidan realized that wasn’t a word. “Nate get back?”

Cortez shook his head, smacking Kaidan in the shoulder towards the stairs as an answer. 

“I’ll worry about the social calendar. Get some sleep, you look hung over,” Cortez folded a blanket on the floor. 

“Deal,” Kaidan agreed, stealing an extra cushion out from under Vega and tossing it to Cortez on his way to the stairs.

As he had hobbled up the stairs, Kaidan could hear Grunt’s thunderous snores and Garrus and Tali having a quiet conversation through the door at the end of the hall. One problem on its way to being solved, hundreds more waiting for them. Knocking on the ajar door as he entered Shepard’s room, Kaidan sent a “thank you” out to the higher powers that he found Shepard in bed. 

“Sorry,” Shepard sat up on her elbows. “Everyone delegate space?”

“Everyone’s claimed a spot and is already sleeping,” Kaidan reported, stripping off his shirt and patting Shepard’s feet as he passed. “I need a shower, I’ll be quick.”

The shower made Kaidan feel worse, the hot water unraveling his muscles and making his very skin feel heavy. Scrubbing his hair, Kaidan ran his fingers over the raised scars from his implant. They’d shrunk considerably since the jagged lumps of the first surgery, but they were still distinctive, marking him with the rest of the biotic community. Much as he and Jack differed, that commonality was hard to shake, especially after a day like today.

Slipping under the covers, Kaidan shivered in surprise when Shepard turned, brushing cold fingers over his back. Squeezing his eyes shut shortly to make them stop aching, Kaidan turned over, whispering ,“Can’t sleep?”

“I’m at the ‘too tired to sleep’ stage,” Shepard yawned.

“Try to,” Kaidan encouraged. “You’d be surprised.”

“How are you?” Shepard asked turning to kiss his hand.. “You and Liara must be used up.”

“Plenty of time to recharge,” Kaidan said, stroking Shepard’s cheek with the back of his knuckles

Shepard closed her eyes as Kaidan finished the caress from the hospital. That was enough to salvage the day, Kaidan decided, feeling some of his own ache ease as Shepard relaxed under his hand and turned into her pillow.

“Jack will be awake and harassing the doctors by morning,” Kaidan promised.

Shepard opened her eyes, leaning forward and pressing another kiss to Kaidan’s mouth. Kaidan smiled, stealing another peck before Shepard settled back out of reach.

“Thank you,” Shepard said. 

“You don’t need to thank us,” Kaidan shook his head. “It’s why we’re-“

“I meant ‘I love you,’ Kaidan,” Shepard informed, mussing Kaidan’s hair. "Don't make it complicated."

“I love you too,” Kaidan laughed, rolling onto his back. “Try to get some sleep?”

Shepard rested her head on Kaidan’s chest, gradually going slack as she finally fell asleep. The apartment was silent, the sudden peace and quiet seeming to bear down on Kaidan. They were going to burn out someday, Kaidan traced the outline of Shepard's arm in the dark. Kaidan slowly slid Shepard off his chest, turning onto his side and letting his eyes close. God willing, tomorrow would bring good news.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the major hiatus, school has completely owned me for the last few months. I'm already working on the next chapters, I'll keep the time between them shorter.

Connie had been hoping to avoid having to sit through James Vega ogling her for as long as possible, but her luck had run out. It had taken York less than an hour to get permission for another “mission” to the Citadel. It wasn’t the type of mission Connie had expected to do after spending all that time on a degree, combat training, and battlefield experience. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Connie announced to her eagerly waiting audience in the shuttle bay, snapping her freshly polished boots together and straightening the buttons on the cuffs of her shirt. It was a lost cause, no one pulled off the Alliance uniform with grace.

“Yikes,” Wash winced as if he had never seen Connie in uniform before.

“You look inspection ready,” Tex observed over sharpening a knife in her own corner. “I thought you were trying to seduce this guy.”

Connie brushed off her shirt as a precaution, standing straight and holding her arms out mockingly for the inevitable critique. Wash cleared his throat, sitting up straight on the crate he was using as a chair while South bounced an elbow off of Carolina.

“Whoa, now _that’s_ just wrong,” Wyoming whistled

Wash loudly snorted and Tex pursed her mouth in consideration, but it was South’s venomous sneer that convinced Connie to look back. North usually blended in easily, accustomed to donning different wardrobes to get his job done; stuffed into an Alliance uniform York had procured, North looked like a sulking child. York smacked North's hand from unbuttoning the high collar, making Wyoming laugh when York straightened North’s shirt like the accompanying clucking parent.

“You ever heard the saying about people liking bad boys?” North pushed York away, opening the collar crookedly.

“Have you _seen_ Shepard’s crew?” York wrestled to get to the button. “They’re insubordinate and incestuous, but they _dress_ like recruitment posters. And you’re competing with _aliens_.”

“Yeah, a married raptor, a baby krogan-“

“Thekrogan Grunt is a mid-stage adolescent,” Gamma corrected from Wyoming’s shoulder.

“-and a blue ‘chick’ with tits!” North ignored the AI. “I don’t _need_ to be a recruitment poster.”

“I’m with North,” Four Seven Niner admitted, dropping down from the shuttle. “The top button thing certainly says ‘stand at attention, soldier’ but it’s not gonna make this guy’s soldier ‘stand at a attention.’”

North shoved York away triumphantly, standing still as Four Seven Niner gave him a discerning once over. Tugging North’s collar to be cockeyed, Four Seven Niner undid a second button on North’s shirt, fluffing it open.

“Never underestimate the allure of a little chest hair,” Four Seven Niner brushed off her hands. “Perfect.”

York’s mouth flapped indignantly before snapping closed. Four Seven Niner looked around for commentary no one was stupid enough to give. Seizing the distraction to untuck his shirt tail, North grunted in agreement when York looked at him for support. Taking his turn to sulk, York grumbled, “At least keep that tucked in, you look sloppy,” before stomping to Carolina. York flicked a look over Connie, giving her a short nod of approval as he checked the buttons on his own uniform. It was reassuring to see York in uniform too. They’d made it out of harebrained schemes before when York got serious. 

“Maybe you should show some chest too,” Wash suggested to Connie hopefully.

“You got one of those cute mechanic crop tops and jumpers?” Wyoming called, pushing sideways into his chest as if bunching cleavage. “We could make something hot for the troops.”

“I hate _all_ of you,” Connie announced.

“I think that uniform suits you very well, Agent Connecticut,” Sigma interjected while Maine watched silently from his own stack of crates. “And you, Agents North Dakota and York.”

“That uniform doesn’t look good on anyone,” South warned her brother.

North grunted, looking down and redoing the second button but keeping his shirt loose. Sigma drifted near Connie, seeming to think she would respond to Sigma’s programmed manners in place of Maine’s obvious apathy 

“You’re going after the Vega guy?” Tex asked, looking Connie up and down in time with Connie’s nod. “I wouldn’t sweat how you look as long as you have boobs. Maybe show some cleavage.”

Tex raised an eyebrow as she gave Connie a final once over and settled on looking unimpressed. Connie saw Carolina and York sigh silently in unison behind Tex’s back. Tex still hadn’t gotten into the ‘team spirit’ yet, and limited her socializing to training and the passing courtesy in the dining hall and the corridor until even Sigma had stopped trying small talk.

“Well, you’re gonna have to do,” Four Seven Niner laughed in Connie’s face and swatted Sigma out of her way. “‘Cause the bus is leaving the depot, let’s go.”

“Have fun in civilization,” Wash encouraged sarcastically, falling in step with Carolina and South as they cleared the launch area. “Get me a souvenir of what it looks like.”

Connie let her silence answer Wash’s begging, strapping herself in at the far end of the shuttle to North and York. The engine kicked, and Connie closed her eyes as the rock of the shuttle made her nauseous. They had three hours to the nearest mass relay, there was no reason to get excited.

“You look wrecked,” North noted, and Connie opened one eye to make sure he was talking to York. Yankovski. Elliot. Whatever Connie was supposed to call him now.

“I kept Delta in too long last night,” York groaned. “He was running more simulations with Gamma’s stuff.”

“Yeah, little guy does some damage. Between him and Sigma, we’ve got serious offense to go with my defense and your stuff.”

“Ha. Great,” York put his hand over his eyes and groaned loudly. “Ugh, he’s gonna have hours of backlog when we get back!”

“Yeah, Theta does that.”

“D’s gotten…obsessive,” York grumbled, leaning back and crossing his arms for a nap, frowning at the ceiling. “More AI’s means more variables and calculations to run.”

Connie leaned into the wall so the rumble of the shuttle would drown the two men out. The AIs weren’t the oddities they had been. Wyoming had stopped complaining about Gamma, and Maine bore Sigma with fewer and fewer growls. What was it like, having a second consciousness? A machine, faster than you could think and constantly updating with more information than a human could learn in a lifetime, a program crawling in your skull, filling it until it drowned out…

“Connie.”

“Jesus!” Connie lurched away from York shaking her, smacking her head against the back of the seat. 

“Sorry,” York sat in the row of seats across from Connie. Scratching the corner of his mouth in thought, York asked, “You ready?”

Connie waited for York to give her something more, sighing heavily when York just looked at her quizzically. She didn’t need York trying to make amends for using her as eye candy. This was a job, she needed York to act like it.

“Yeah. I know how to hang out at a range.”

York nodded, tapping his hands together and unbuttoning his top shirt button. He did look tired, stifling a yawn while Connie watched and clearing his throat with a wet hack.

“I know this isn’t the type of thing you usually do,” York admitted. “But if you need a wingman, I’ll be around.”

“Yor…Elliot,” Connie tried to get used to the lack of formality. “I know how to keep a guy interested.”

“I meant if there were problems,” York waved his hand at the idea.

“And I know how to make a guy piss off.”

“Yeah, but he’s not a civilian,” York reminded. “He’s got the same combat skills you have.”

“Really?” Connie asked in disbelief. “You give the sexual harassment talk to North, too?”

“No,” York winced. “But I’m not as worried about a mild-mannered widower Nate has a couple inches on. James Vega is a hothead with a shit ton of muscle.”

“I can handle myself,” Connie informed. “The guy’s dense, but I doubt he’s going to try anything in public.”

York nodded shortly, getting up and cuffing Connie on the shoulder as he returned to his seat. York had never been one for stirring speeches and grand gestures, not when a promise to pay for drinks after the battle would do. Connie preferred that to empty rhetoric and even emptier promises of glory.

The noise of the Citadel was a welcomed change from the stagnant silence of the Tin Can, and Connie gladly sucked in fresh synthetic air. North hid behind York and Connie as they passed a cluster of soldiers and C-Sec officials by the Memorial park, tucking in his loose shirt when one of them caught him in a glare. Glancing at his omnitool to look busy, North mumbled, “Guess we hit the cafe and marketplace, see if Steve is there yet.”

“Anyone else?” York was already scanning the crowd.

“‘Whoever he could convince,’” North read his omnitool. “Sounds like they’re squeezing us in between official business.”

Trying to drift away from the two men, Connie observed the crowd around her. The quarian presence had increased since the war, at least for trade, and elders had joined the yearly influx of adolescent quarians looking to prove themselves. Quarians were still aloof from Council business, but they were certainly personable, unlike the batarian and krogan hordes. Trying to convince the Council into giving them more planets to ravage certainly hadn’t made the krogans any more diplomatic. Nodding to a male quarian motioning her past, Connie had to admire the quarians for their resilience.

“Got ‘em,” North nodded to a table at the cafe where James and Steve were hunched over sandwiches.

Connie brushed her hair back, compromising regulation with relaxation with a tight ponytail and bangs as a barrier. North cranked on his smile. He didn't give his acting ability enough credit. York tapped the buttons of his uniform, standing up straighter and calling cheerfully, “We were hoping we’d find you around here!”

Steve and James looked up expectantly.  James leapt up and Steve rose stiffly but managed a small smile as he offered North his seat. They looked as haggard as York. James snatched a chair from the table next to them, holding it out expectantly until Connie reluctantly accepted the offer and braced her feet against the table before James could shove her into it.

“Come to accept your medal of honor already?” York joked, grabbing his own chair and sitting at the corner of the table.

“Nope, just more complications,” Steve nibbled at the half finished sandwich in front of him. “Thanks for meeting us here.”

“We’re not getting in the way, are we?” North asked kindly.

“Nah, we could use some target practice,” James assured, pushing his empty plate away. “Garrus and Tali are gonna join us, blow off some steam. 

“Unless you need to eat first?” Steve was already looking for a waiter.

“I think we’re good,” Connie said before York could drag this out. Getting up and socking James on the shoulder, Connie challenged, “Or are you trying to stall?”

James grinned, crumpling up his napkin and throwing it down on the table energetically. Steve hurriedly stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth to join North in leading the group into the upper levels of the Presidium. James fell in step with Connie, prompting conversationally, “It’s cool you guys could meet us for a few hours. Esteban’s been checking his omnitool every five minutes.”

“Yeah, Nate asked Elliot as soon as he got the message,” Connie tried to shove the blame on to North. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you, stuff piled up, and then we were already on the way.”

“No sweat, I gotcha. You guys have been together awhile?” James asked, adding quickly, “Usually the Alliance busts units apart if they get too comfortable.”

“Yeah, well…no point in reassigning us when there’s no action,” Connie searched to find York for help. “Besides, Elliot gets to pick and choose by now, he likes keeping his guys close. We know too much, he says.”

“Make sense,” James nodded, looking around with Connie.

Connie waited for James to set the tone of the conversation. Instead, James stayed quiet, standing tall to keep track of Steve and North as they passed through the crowded market. Maybe sobriety made him more subdued, Connie guessed from the lack of beer and bar cronies. James cleared his throat, cracking his knuckles loudly and studying North pouring sweet lies into Steve’s ear.

“So…ah, I kinda peaked at your service file,” James admitted, his ears turning red to Connie's shock. “Habit, I guess, when you meet a new company…”

“I looked at yours too,” Connie shrugged, glad to have something truthful to say. “But, more ‘cause Shepard’s is required reading for soldiers these days.”

“Yeah, right,” James laughed awkwardly, scratching his hair into a crest Connie wanted to smack flat. “So, you…looked at my record.”

James rubbed his neck, watching York carefully as the older man drifted at a respectful distance. Perhaps there was a glimmer of self-awareness under the tan and tattoos. There was nothing in James Vega’s public profile to raise suspicion, but York had give Connie the rest- an entire colony of people, up in smoke, along with James Vega’s commanding officer and most of his unit. At least he’d had the courtesy to kill some Collectors with the humans. Connie’s jaw ground open when York shouldered by her, jogging to catch North as they neared the shooting range.

“Just a peek, like you said, habit,” Connie forced herself to stay. “I had family in New Canton, by Fehl Prime. You and Steve served there?“

“Yeah, that’s, that’s rough, the Collectors hit hard there, we lost…we lost way too many people,” James stuttered clumsily, scrubbing sweat off the back of his neck. Connie saw his throat bob, resisting the urge to jump away when he looked ready to puke. Before she could move, James shook off the look, continuing in a low tone, “Sorry about your family. It said you guys were stationed at Terra Nova for, like, two years before the Reapers hit Earth. Didn’t know intelligence was a hot business there.”

“Officially, we stayed there,” Connie admitted, ignoring her momentary confusion. “But really, they just didn’t want to redact where we were from public records.”

Connie smugly watched James’ eyes widen as he tried to soak in the idea that there were soldiers that kept the military running when Shepard wasn’t around. It didn’t matter that Connie had spent most of that time up to her elbows in grease to keep the hunk of junk ship running and the other half sitting in on meetings she didn’t entirely understand, and York got what little infamy there was. She’d done her job, the same as any soldier with the balls to hold their post.

“Damn, that’s cool. Explains why Nate’s is kinda short too, and Elliot’s is damn near blank,” James grinned. “Most of the guys I serve with have their own reputations in the service or…well, rap sheets. A lot of them have both.”

“Yeah, ‘subtlety,’ isn’t your crew’s thing,” Connie agreed, adding when York whistled a warning, “You’re on the news too much.”

“Not as fun as it sounds,” James rolled his eyes at something. Flicking another look at North and Steve, James’ thought aloud, “You guys must be pretty tight.”

“One word for it,” Connie cringed at the thought of Wash trailing his towel from the showers and Wyoming flexing in his locker mirror. “You kinda get over boundaries when you’ve seen someone piss themselves.”

“Nate?” James nodded at North’s back, looking gleefully interested.

“What?” North looked back skeptically at Connie. “Fuck you, I did not piss myself that was…Koichi.”

North shot a look at York, smirking when he got the name of Connie’s old squad mate right with only a beat of hesitation. York shifted, passing the look on to Connie uncomfortably. Koichi would be glad he was still useful. From his place on the memorial wall.

“You have to let him live that down,” York chided with a barely audible catch. “It only happened once.”

“Foxhole buddy?” Steve asked North.

“Bunkmate _and_ foxhole buddy,” North corrected naturally. “Our stuff smelled _awesome_ that night.”

North flashed his smile at Steve, making Connie cringe. To her surprise Steve laughed, jerking a thumb at James as he said, “Couldn’t have been worse than Mr. Vega’s weight corner. _That_ is military grade stink.”

“And your grease rags are cologne,” James scoffed.

“Got a thing against grease?” Connie asked.

James looked between Steve and Connie, turning back to a deeper flustered red when Steve grinned at him. North and York shared a look, snickering at each other until Connie kicked York in the shins with her heel.

“Uh…not _grease_ , hey, that comes with the job, but…yeah, y’know, Esteban’s not _neat_ ,” James spluttered.

“You could eat off of my shuttle deck,” Steve insisted indignantly. “And my bay floor. And my desk.”

Steve Cortez partied hard, apparently, and Connie couldn't contain a scoff at how proud he sounded.

“Oof, one offer at a time,” North laughed over her, elbowing Steve playfully and giving York the chance to scan his credentials to open the gun range. “First, the gun show.”

“Nice,” James snorted, looking up and calling, “Yo, love bi-”

“You don’t want to finish that,” Garrus advised over Connie’s head. Connie jumped away from the turian, fighting down a bristle when Garrus chuckled, “Excuse me, Vega had to be stopped.”

“How’s 3B?” James’ asked, saluting Tali at Garrus elbow. “She put someone through a wall yet?”

“She threw a water pitcher on Kaidan and Mordin. Hit Kaidan square in the forehead,” Tali explained in equal parts weariness and affection. “She’s more accurate, she didn’t get any on Shepard or Dr. Chakwas.”

“That’s…good…” Steve said slowly, not looking convinced.

“3B?” Connie couldn't keep from asking. 

“Er, Jack, the tattooed ch-woman,” James gestured at his own tattooed neck. 

“She’s got some biotic sniffles,” Steve finished delicately.

“What’s the 3B for?” North asked, looking at James when Steve pointed the question away from himself. 

Jack’s cup size? Connie thought pettily before correcting herself. Prison ID? Her primary features: two breasts and a nice butt?James glanced between Connie and Steve again, shrugging, “It’s kinda like, aaaah…a warning label for her.”

“Warning label?” Connie tried not to sneer.

“Yeah,” James didn’t sound uncomfortable for the admission. “‘Cause she’s one badass, biotic, er, broad.”

James cleared his throat and held up three fingers to emphasize his point. Tali sighed, mumbling in exasperation while Garrus clicked his mandibles in amusement and Steve looked smug for his revenge. Connie struggled to decide between amusement and annoyance at James' shame-faced look. He was simultaneously stupider than she expected while additionally confusing.

“Were you gonna say ‘bitch?’” Connie let herself have a smattering of fun.

Pulling a bashful grimace, James admitted, “Yeah, well, 3, Jack calls me a pussy if I don’t.”

“She does,” Tali added loyally.

“I can see that,” Connie admitted to the thought of Jack shrieking profanities on the battlefield.

So, Wash had been right-the psychotic biotic had managed to walk away from Sigma’s tampering. North shared a look with Connie over their dates’ backs, rubbing his jaw in thought and observing the Normandy crew around them carefully. That must be why they all looked exhausted; Sigma had saddled them with a malfunctioning biotic. Connie almost felt sorry for the poor bastards.

“So..what, you got 3B a flu shot and she’s good to go?” Connie asked, offering James a smile to see if she could get his ears to turn purple.

“Something like that,” James shrugged, nodding to the range attendant amicably. “Whatever gives biotics their charge.”

“How long are you grounded?” York asked, relaxing when the attendant barely glanced at North and Connie.

“A couple days,” Steve handed his gun to the attendant for inspection. 

“Just ’til we’re sure she won’t sneeze a hole in our ship,” Tali explained diplomatically. “Accidentally.”

“Well, lucky us,” North observed, nudging his way past Steve and selecting a pistol from the rack of available guns.

Connie grunted in agreement, taking a Stiletto pistol from the wall and loading it quickly, hardly looking at the gun as she caught James studying her, following her hands. 

“More of an assault rifle man, myself,” James said grandly, selecting a Crossfire rifle and hoisting it importantly. 

Connie squeezed the trigger with a cathartic thunk, piercing the target in the throat before moving on to add holes in the head and wrists. North was faster, adding nipple piercings for sport before punching out eyes faster than Connie could start another circuit. Steve shot methodically to neatly take out the target’s brain, heart and throat. York was accurate, but lazy, shooting a line down the target’s chest and finishing with a shot to the forehead.Tali shot with frightening precision for a shotgun, leaving her target without joints, while Garrus inspected his weapon importantly at the end.

“Gotta make grind drills interesting,” Vega’s mouth formed, copying Connie’s pattern and surprising her by adding two holes in the targets chest with North before leaving a trail of bullets up the targets arm.

Connie lowered her gun with the final shot, pettily annoyed when Vega placed his gun down a second later, without even an amateur empty click of the trigger. Connie tucked her bangs behind her ear when Vega grinned at her, pointing at her target.

“I see why you like pistols,” James offered, talking over Connie’s head before she could respond. “You’re good with them.”

“You should see her shoot a M-920 Cain,” York advised James cheerfully and patted Connie smugly.

“Sexiest gun I ever shot,” Connie sighed, cocking her hip into York’s stomach while wondering if she heard James go erect.

“I can…uh, yeah,” James shook his head sharply and shouted over Connie’s head,, “Damn, Nate, you make Garrus look slow.”

“We’ll see about that,” Garrus purred as he adjusted the site on his pistol.

“Ah, nah,” Nate twirled his gun and practically blowing smoke from the muzzle. “You gotta know how to test the merchandise, right Steve?”

Steve laughed, bringing his target forward and frowning critically at his work. North rolled up his own target, leaning over Steve’s shoulder and observing helpfully, “You hit slightly to the left of where you aim. You still killed him, though.”

“I’d blame the gun, but then I’m bad at my job,” Steve sighed, crumpling up the target and tossing it away.

“But you’re consistent,” North insisted, reaching for the gun. “Maybe the weight is just a little off.”

“It shouldn’t be, this is mine,” Steve sighed, stripping his weapon and reassembling it under North’s watch. “You’re good with a borrowed gun.”

“My dad always said you can’t let the gun make you a good shot,” North shrugged, glancing at the sharp click of York snapping more ammunition in. “He used to take me to ranges, to make sure I was well rounded. First time he took me out with a shotgun, it smashed me in the mouth.”

North tapped the deep scar in the shadow of his lower lip, leaning closer for Steve to see. York rolled his eyes, snickering softly when Tali peered to see and jerked away when she noticed how close she was to the two men. Even James raised an eyebrow, looking at Connie quizzically.

“He usually saves _that_ line for the end of the date,” Connie explained, blowing a kiss before she thought the demonstration over. James laughed, flicking a surprised look at Connie while watching Steve’s back.

“Let me know if you want some pointers,” North straightened up when he caught the others looking, the picture of innocence.

“Suave,” Steve laughed, backing away to reclaim his gun. “I bet you use that a lot.”

“Main thing scars are good for,” North bounced his eyebrows suggestively. “At least the bastard gave me something worthwhile.”

York’s skeptical "ha" was muted by a volley of gunfire from Garrus’ gun. The target in front of Garrus burst apart at the chest, the center shot rapidly widening into a chasm one meticulous shot at a time. Connie exhaled in a rush, watching North’s eyes widen as the turian annihilated his target without changing his posture or stopping to blink.

“Holy _shit_ ,” North swallowed, stepping up to watch with York.

Garrus’ fired a final shot through the center of the hollowed target, dropping the pistol slowly without North’s flare or James’ posturing. Casually considering his target, Garrus nodded proudly, turning to his audience with a satisfied sigh and a preen in Tali’s direction.

“I’m more partial to sniping,” Garrus turned the pistol over importantly. “But I could get used to this.”

North laughed sharply, reaching out his hand and asking, “Bitching. Can I see it?”

Garrus handed North the pistol, watching carefully while North set it on the counter in front of him. York whistled between his teeth, looking between North and the gun rapidly. Connie poked Steve out of her way, leaning over York’s arm to watch North taking the gun apart. York cleared his throat forbiddingly, leaving Connie staring down at the familiar pistol in silence.

“Hell of a gun,” North observed, dismantling his sister’s weapon with forced hesitation and turning to ask Steve, “Did you build this?”

“No,” Steve admitted, picking through the parts. “You see the news about Joab? One of the mercenaries dropped it there.”

“While Jack was turning her into a bowling ball,” James finished smugly.

North nodded mechanically, briskly putting the weapon back together and shoving it back to Garrus. Connie could feel York radiating frustration as he studied North for answers. North jaw set rigidly over South’s latest mess, quickly turning into his winning smile as he naturally switched to cleaning it up.

“Lucky break,” York spoke for North, taking his turn to inspect the weapon. “Did you get anything from it?”

“Not yet,” Garrus nodded, taking the pistol back and testing the weight. “But we’ll see.”

North jerked his head in another automatic nod, raking his hair up from his neck pensively. York handed North his own pistol to occupy the other man’s hands. Connie could see North floundering to follow York's lead, his smile sliding off the longer he rotated York's pistol in his grip. Putting himself between Garrus and North, York offered, “I might have some sources I could probe for you.”

“Thanks, but I have some friends on Omega I've been meaning to visit,” Garrus chuckled darkly, holstering the gun quickly.

“This was about getting _away_ from work,” Tali reminded everyone. “We don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposing,” York assured confidently. 

“It’s what we do,” Connie agreed with a shrug, shuffling around North to mask his silence. “It’ll give Nate an excuse to look at gun porn.”

“Right,” North said loudly, readopting his smile. “I’d be doing that anyway, it might as well be useful.”

Garrus tapped his claw on the gun thoughtfully while Steve shook his head in bemusement at North. Connie kicked North’s foot on his other side when North threatened to look grim as he thought. 

“Come on, Scars, they track ‘em down and you kick down the doors? We’ll have the guys in a cell by the end of the week,” James reasoned. “If you guys are really down for it.”

“Sure,” Connie forced herself to say, adding when James jumped at her tone, “Mix a little business with pleasure? Why not?”

York pointed at Connie in approval, keeping his eyes on Garrus for agreement. Garrus rolled his shoulders, stroking the pistol at his hip possessively. North straightened up as soon as Garrus tugged the gun free and extended it to North. North twirled the gun eagerly towards his belt before York snatched it away.

“Just so we remember what we’re looking for,” York explained when North threatened to protest. “You can drool over the pictures later.”

Laying out the gun parts, York waved North away. North grumbled, leaning against the wall with crossed arms while York took a picture of the gun and scanned the parts into his omnitool. Steve patted North’s shoulder sympathetically, offering, “Maybe Garrus’ll let you shoot it in here.”

North ran his tongue along his teeth, tracing York’s hand as he struggled to smoothly reassemble the gun. Connie brushed against James when she caught James studying North again, knitting his brows in concern. North caught the movement, sticking out his tongue at Steve in a show disappointment.

“Nah,” North shrugged sharply. “We should be heading out soon anyway, let you guys get back to business.”

“We have time for another round or two,” James assured, eyeing Connie against his arm.

“Next time. You’re busy, and we don’t want to impose either,” Connie offered for York, returning her gun to the wrack to give York time to relinquish South’s gun to Garrus and shrug the feeling of James off.

North shoved his borrowed gun back on the rack beside Connie's. Connie tried to look sympathetic, fighting down a fresh wave of resentment towards York. North never had a problem handling himself, and he usually managed to handle South without airing his frustration. After losing herself in familiar drills, seeing North uncertain was an unpleasant reminder to Connie that this job had stakes beyond thwarting a blockhead's clumsy advances. North softened his tense muscles in response to Connie's gentle poke and bumped Connie reassuringly.

“Good luck with Jack,” York encouraged. “She seems tough.”

“I’m sure she’s already trying to escape the doctors,” Tali laughed. “Thank you for the help.”

“Let me know if you find something,” Steve tapped North’s shoulder. “Or, or whatever.”

“I’ll shoot you a message after I look things over,” North nodded to the door. “Walk us out?”

Steve eagerly agreed, seemingly oblivious to North’s thoughtful silence on the way back. York glued himself to Garrus and Tali, prying details of the explosion on Joab with commiseration and leaving Connie with James.

“Thanks,” James said, swinging his arms. “We can use all the help we can get on this one.”

“I’m surprised the Council hasn’t tried to sic more Spectres on them,” Connie tried not to brag.

“Nah, that’s not the Council’s style,” James laughed with Garrus.

“The Council has their image to think of,” Garrus continued wisely. “Scapegoating one well-known Spectre is a much easier than trying to call an entire task force incompetent.”

“And much easier than doing something themselves,” Tali confirmed grimly.

York cocked his head at the Normandy crew’s tone. They looked tired again, exchanging weary glares and knowing mumbles. Connie would have expected discontented grumbling in the Alliance before the war, but not from the Council’s pets. Short of erecting a statue of Shepard getting sucked off in the center square, Connie doubted the Council could show anymore favoritism towards the Normandy crew.

“They’ve gotten better since the war,” York didn’t quite manage to sound confident.

“Sure, even they can learn when they get a Reaper beam to the face” James said in mock generosity.

“But the Council is stuck on the Presidium,” Tali reminded. “They only hear about things _after_ they go wrong.”

“And then comes the denial phase, and getting confirmation, debating what to do, and filling out the paperwork to let you do it,” Garrus waved his claw unhappily. “It’s a long time to waste when colonists are trying to survive at the other end of the universe.”

Garrus rattled irritably over Tali’s disappointed mumbles. York nodded slowly in agreement, and Connie caught herself agreeing with James’ dismissive snort. Connie didn’t like naturally agreeing with the Normandy crew, even if it was over something as obvious as the Council’s blinkered perspective. It was like York and North complaining about their AIs, Connie reasoned when she caught herself sharing an eye roll with James; at least Shepard had the ear of the Council.

York trotted up the steps to the shuttle, leaving the couples to themselves with an excuse about prepping the engines. Steve drew North aside, prying another smile out of North that wasn’t begrudging. Tali caught Garrus’ elbow, leaning into his shoulder while they waited. James motioned Connie towards the ship as he asked,  “Sure you guys won’t get in trouble for helping us?”

“What, from Elliot?” Connie laughed at the idea. “He’s itching for something to do. Keep us posted.”

“Sure thing. Message me back this time?”

Crap, Connie realized when James grinned at her. She had convinced him he wasn’t insufferable, Connie groaned internally. Laughing out loud so she wouldn’t have to admit she would write back, Connie fled for the shuttle, throwing James a wave from the top of the steps and calling to North. North leaned on Steve’s shoulder to whisper something in his ear, walking away with a last look to Garrus’ hip.

“Laying it on thick?” Connie whispered as North rejoined her.

“Focus on your own job,” North ordered through his teeth. “I have enough problems without you criticizing my game.”

Connie pushed North into a seat, catching sight of James shoving Steve proudly before the door shut solidly. Connie dropped into the seat next to North, craning to look for York in the cockpit. North leaned on his knees, raising tracks in his light hair with his fingers as he thought. 

“Did you know she had lost her gun?” Connie asked, propping her boots on the seat across from her.

“No,” North told the floor, working at opening the buttons of his shirt with one hand. “Fuck. York!”

York popped out of the cockpit, skidding into the room as Four Seven Niner gunned the engines for takeoff. Dropping into a seat and sliding down the row, York looked more tired than before and blatantly angry.

“You might have told me South lost her gun,” York accused before North could turn on him. “In fact, that’d be a big help, if I could know what’s going on in my own-“

“Get off my back, I didn’t know,” North snapped his seat belt.

“Right,” York scoffed. 

“Yeah, _right_ , Sasha didn’t say shit,” North licked his lips when he spit. “I’d’ve mentioned that little fuck up.”

York groaned and thumbed his nose at the excuse. Connie took down her hair so she could stuff her hair tie in her mouth to avoid talking. York got up as the shuttle steadied, pacing in front of the two of them and clearly rattling what little patience North had managed to keep.

“Can they get anywhere with that thing?” York pointed at the pistol across space.

“Probably not. South and I always knew our guns could get picked up in an arrest, we didn't leave a calling card. And we haven’t been on Omega for a few years, if the clients there aren’t dead they probably won’t know where we are.”

“Yeah, but ‘blonde twins selling an arsenal’ isn’t inconspicuous,” York reminded. “Especially after London, it’s not a leap to get from South, to you, to Connie and me.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t planning that far ahead when we were growing up, or when I was trying not to let South get jumped by herself during a deal, or thought the Reapers were gonna turn Earth into black hole,” North admitted. “My bad.”

“This is not my fault,” York pointed out. “I can’t control South, man.”

“Neither can I,” North retorted. “I can just apply brakes when I see trouble.”

York hunched in surrender, sitting to look at the two of them. North stretched his back and stayed reclined, smoothing his hair from his outburst. Connie twisted her bangs back through her fingers, glad to have York interrogate North instead of having to give a play-by-play of watching James bluster and blush. She felt itchy and annoyed when she thought of it, and in need of a cleansing shower.

“South might have kept us in the loop,” York groused apologetically.

“She’s been stressing about that damn ranking board,” North replied. “A fuck up like this could keep her at the bottom.”

“Or land us in prison,” Connie muttered.

“I will handle it,” North snapped. “Throw Steve a couple hints about some dealers I know are dead to stall.”

“Let me do that,” York advised. “I want you two to keep up the cozying.”

North scowled sourly alongside the gurgle in Connie’s stomach. She didn’t like to think of it as cozying up to anyone. York caught her squirm, turning on her before Connie could slouch apathetically.

“You did a good job with ‘Mr. Vega,’” York quirked an eyebrow when North sucked his teeth irritably. “You good?”

“Yup,” Connie leaned back and crossed her legs. “You were right, he’s not hard to crack. They’re scrambling, and the Council is useless. Want me to write up something official?”

York rolled his eyes, dismissing himself to the cockpit without another word and leaving Connie and North to stew in silence and try to rest until the shuttle rumbled into place at the base. Connie headed for her quarters before Four Seven Niner could tease her, shutting her door firmly on the sound of North pounding on his sister's door.

“Oh, fuck me,” Connie flicked off her blinking computer messages. “He’s _clingy_ too.”

 

 

 

_Tissot (??),_

_Garrus wants to get Elliot’s address, so he doesn’t have to wait for updates. Guy’s twitchy for a turian. Steve was gonna ask Nate, but if he asks Nate anymore ‘official’ questions, I think he’s gonna forget he’s supposed to be flirting, and never get laid, so can I get it from you? Thanks for the help on this. The Council’s halfway up Shepard’s ass, and with Jack fucked up it’s nice to get some outside helps. Shepard says she still owes you guys drinks, but I’ll get the second round next time,_

 

_James Vega_

 

Connie drummed her fingers on her desk, closing the message and bouncing her forehead on the desk top. She had to reply now, even without York’s nagging to keep James on the hook. She didn’t like this. She had trained to tweak machines so she wouldn’t have to wade through the mess people left around her.


	22. Chapter 22

Mordin straightened his work station, ignoring the vexing twinge in his shoulder. No significant damage, verified by Dr. Chakwas, he didn’t have time or energy to worry about trivialities. Jack was on the mend, that was helpful. There was work to be done, but Tali had made some progress in his absence. He had adjusted to these factors, work was progressing satisfactorily, Shepard should be pleased.

“There is a drone without guns?” Mordin asked Tali.

“Yes, I have an info drone,” Tali said shortly. Guiltily, but that was of little consequence to the present.

“Excellent,” Mordin praised her to urge her past her persistent discomfort. “Better to do test before takeoff, ensure EDI’s cooperation.”

“I already checked with EDI, she says it’s fine as long as she gets to watch this time and there are no guns,” Tali promised, shifting noticeably behind her desk.

Nothing to be done, then, Mordin decided. Tali was emotional, an endearing quality in the right circumstances, but tiresome to deal with given their shared office. Getting shot was nothing to dwell on, unless it was fatal or crippling, when the choice was irrelevant. Time would sooth Tali, but Mordin would not idly wait.

“Tali and I have already prepared for the test, Dr. Solus,” EDI assured from overhead and the doorway simultaneously as she walked in. “I will secure this room to ensure the drone does not escape again.”

“Thank you, EDI,” Mordin smiled gratefully. “Hopefully unnecessary with Tali’s precautions. Drone likely to be a nuisance, not a threat, but both should be contained.”

“That was Tali’s thought,” EDI sat perfectly straight in her chair to address Mordin. “I’m sure we can handle a malfunction this time.”

“Has Shepard returned?” Mordin moved to other concerns.

“Jack is being released this morning,” EDI reminded smoothly, her visor blinking as she scanned the ship. “The crew is restocking the ship, but Shepard, Garrus, and Liara have remained with Jack.”

Mordin returned to straightening his desk while he waited, glad that EDI was silent and Tali worked quietly. Hospital visits always proved taxing, this one exceedingly so. Jack was ill tempered in ideal conditions, deeply unpleasant in most situations. Mordin sympathized with the biotic woman’s aversion to hospitals. Understandable, given Jack’s background, but she proved a difficult patient.

Picking up the charred implant to inspect, Mordin snuffled against the acrid odor. Jack was fortunate, the internal workings had been blackened by the surge without damaging the external casing. There was little left to examine, to Mordin’s disappointment.Jack’s unique development introduced too many variables to constructively compare her to Major Alenko's complications or Liara's natural abilities. 

“It’s nice to have some good news, when Jack gets back,” Tali talked to the room.

“Doubt Jack will care,” Mordin guessed and placed the implant in his desk for safe keeping. “But, yes, perhaps this is good news.”

“Perhaps?” Tali asked doubtfully. “The program doesn’t work, that means the mercenaries can’t use it.”

“Possibly, but unproven conclusion,” Mordin objected to Tali’s hasty assumption. “Program ineffective as a tool for repair. It is not benign. Potentially used for sabotage.”

“Sabotage what?” Tali insisted on asking. “There’s no guarantee it would do what they want.”

“Correct, possibly useless,” Mordin begrudgingly agreed. “But not verified.”

Quarian emotions were difficult to read when they weren’t talking, Mordin lamented when Tali fell silent. Mordin could assume annoyance, from Tali’s jerky motions, but people were often frustrated when Mordin corrected them. EDI blinked calmly at the two of them, studying her metal fingers to appear uninterested, a gesture she had picked up from Jack. 

Considering Tali’s displeasure, Mordin hoped Tali had not progressed to hatred. Mordin liked Tali, personally and professionally. She was young, and overly optimistic, more mechanic than scientist, but he appreciated the quarian’s interest in his work and enthusiasm in her own. Her work on the ship was critical and skilled, a personal conflict could prove distracting in close quarters.

“However,” Mordin saw Tali shove her desk drawer closed sharply. “They have not utilized it at this point. Perhaps they included the program in their list as misdirection, and the program is useless to them.”

“So, we could be focussing on the wrong thing?” Tali still sounded unhappy for Mordin’s concession.

“Perhaps,” Mordin admitted, assuring, “But other programs straightforward, only this required experimentation. We lost nothing in working on it.”

Tali fidgeted thoughtfully. Mordin doubted the mercenaries were making use of the other programs they had stolen. Sloppy camouflage, rushed in the face of potential capture, littered with outdated software, failed experiment notes, and programs no current technology would support. Mordin would learn more when he could study their innovations personally, but he would reserve being impressed until his examinations on the speed upgrade were complete. 

EDI’s visor lit up an instant before Joker informed the ship, “Captain on deck. Anyone seen Grunt and Kasumi?”

“Grunt is sleeping in his quarters, and Kasumi is currently trying to pick the lock on Shepard’s door,” EDI overlapped with Joker on the speaker with a buzz. “The entire crew is now on board.”

“Kasumi, knock it off, EDI’ll just re-lock it,” Joker scolded before asking sweetly. “Want me to fire up the engines?”

“I will do that shortly,” EDI smiled softly. “Thank you, Jeff.”

“Not in front of the whole _ship_ , EDI,” Joker teased coyly. “Not everyone likes hardcore PDA.”

“Understood, I will be more discreet,” EDI blinked, her faint voice crackling from Joker’s cockpit speaker. “This should be more appropriate for flirtation.”

“Uh…yeah, that’ll work.Welcome back Jack. Shepard, it looks like Mordin, EDI, and Tali have something for you” Joker coughed and Tali smothered a giggle. Mordin observed quietly, still intrigued by EDI and Joker's attachment. Romantic, he presumed sexual, but EDI lacked biological urges to reproduce or seek sexual pleasure, and Joker's physical infirmity limited sexual ability. Logical pair, to a point, he supposed, but thoroughly perplexing by salarian sensibilities and biological practicality. Strikingly human, to Mordin's amusement.  

“Kasumi, please stop interfering with Shepard’s door,” EDI said neutrally over the main speakers. “Kaidan would like to enter, and I will not unlock the cabin while you are there….thank you, I will send the elevator.”

EDI smiled sweetly at the air, her visor pane flashing rapidly as she juggled the tasks of the ship calmly. The elevator dinged and the sound of Jack complaining drifted down the corridor until the elevator whirred again. EDI looked to the lab door, smiling at Shepard as she entered.

“Sure I can't fire her up?” Joker asked.

“Yes, I will return to the cockpit shortly,” EDI assured, standing up and switching to speak through her body, “Jack has returned to her quarters. Would you like me to give you updates, Shepard?”

“No, let her have some privacy, she’s been being monitored for days,” Shepard wreaked of stress. “What’ya got for me?”

“Think Tali and I have found reason for drone malfunction,” Mordin offered, beckoning Shepard forward. 

“Have you _slept_ today?” Shepard asked heavily.

“Of course. Sleep crucial for reasoning skills,” Mordin drew himself up at the insinuation. “An hour and a half, more than sufficient.”

Shepard absorbed the salarian’s inexhaustibility without comment. Mordin wanted to recommend sleep in return, but wouldn’t repeat a frequently failed experiment to see if Shepard would care for herself like a responsible human. 

“Perhaps keeping the explanation short would be beneficial,” EDI suggested, holding the drone out to Mordin.

“Yes, will try to be brisk,” Mordin confirmed, passing the drone to Tali. “Program designed to target problems, inform operators of malfunctions. Ambitious, but overly broad, unspecialized, regrettable oversight.”

Shepard yawned cavernously, staring at Mordin with a guise of attentiveness. Humans required more sleep, Mordin scolded himself, and Shepard sacrificed precious sleep to maintain order. This would make explanations less engaging. Tali bustled to join Mordin, chattering, “They tried to make it so the program could adapt, instead of making an individual program for every type of technology or trying to get a permit for an AI. It’s not _complex_ , a very basic VI, but ships, drones, computers, they do different things, and the Crucible affected everything differently, so-“

“Useless if _too_ specialized,” Mordin interrupted the ramble. “Simpler to do it manually,then. Aiming for varied application-assess system, perhaps designate it as drone, for example, then test for basic drone capabilities. Different from ship capabilities, obviously.”

“Uh huh…” Shepard nodded against the hand her chin was resting on.

“Like a very primitive version of my design,” EDI offered soothingly. “I would not order the engines to open, or the computers to filter oxygen, or test the doors for viruses during a systems scan. I assess each system's appropriate abilities separately.”

“Ok,” Shepard sounded more confident. “And…this doesn’t do that?”

“Well, it _does_ , but not _well_ , it tries to make it do everything, and doesn’t account for out of date versions, and-”

“Perhaps a demonstration,” Mordin offered when Tali inhaled. “Please stand, Shepard.”

Shepard scrubbed both hands down her face, rising carefully and waiting expectantly. Tali sat down on her desk, swinging her feet like a scolded child. One person explaining would be more effective, Mordin should have offered. 

“Please rub your abdomen,” Mordin instructed. Shepard raised her eyebrows skeptically, placing her hand on her stomach and making a weak circle. “Continue, please.”

“Pat your head, still rubbing your abdomen,” Mordin ordered, nodding away Shepard’s annoyance. “Hop on one foot. Hop around me, and kick with the raised foot…good. Hum, please.”

Shepard did not looked pleased, humming a wandering tone and barely raising her foot as she hopped. Her hands were starting to muddle their tasks, mussing Shepard’s hair and shirt. 

“Excellent,” Mordin encouraged, rounding his desk to make Shepard follow him. “Catch this.”

Mordin threw a book at Shepard’s chest, and Shepard scrambled to snatch it before it hit the floor. EDI’s hand reached out to neatly catch the book from midair before tucking into her lap away from Shepard. Shepard hopped herself upright and crisply tugged her shirt straight, asking raggedly, “What was that for?”

“Proving a point,” Mordin ducked his head apologetically. “You are not built to rub, pat, hop, hum, and catch simultaneously. Impossible to do everything effectively.“

"Like an overly demanding game of Simon Says," EDI offered to Mordin's chagrine.

“Yeah, I got that,” Shepard confirmed, exhaling slowly in Mordin’s face. “So, am I the drone, or the prototype?”

“Drone, in this scenario,” Mordin explained. “If you had been outdated, I would ask you to fly, but thought that extreme example.”

“What?” Shepard grimaced and rubbed her eye. “Ok, I get the idea that I _should_ be able to catch, but can’t if my hands are busy, but I _really_ can’t sprout wings out my ass.”

“Correct, you cannot fly. Currently a biological impossibility,” Mordin went back to basics. “As many outdated drones and computers cannot perform the tasks the program would test for.”

“Here,” Tali hurried to her computer and typed furiously. “I’ll start the program, Mordin can explain.”

Tali placed the info drone on her desk delicately, typing commands into the computer and stepping back. EDI perched on the edge of her chair in anticipation as the simple drone glowed with life. Shepard leaned on her elbow against the desk, picking at the corner of her eye impatiently as the drone drifted. The simple lens shuttered open and closed obediently, followed by a series of rapid turns in response to beeps from the computer. 

“Test begins as expected,” Mordin explained. “Simple tasks, easily executed.”

“Greetings. I am Drone 6K-H92V8, would you like to customize?” the drone asked the room loudly, spiraling across the desk rapidly. 

“Should we…?” Shepard whispered to EDI, slouching closer to the desk when EDI shook her head.

The drone whirred thoughtfully, reporting, “New name ‘Info Drone’ accepted. How can I be of assist-Search for ‘mass effect fields’ successful. Narrowing search results. Mass effect fields are a result of- Beginning inventory scan.”

“Program determines response satisfactory, begins following test,” Mordin explained. “Drone attempts to accommodate change.” 

Tali jerked out of the zooming drone’s path as it flitted about the cabin. Its lens shuttered spastically, scanning equipment quickly and racing to the next desk frantically. Zooming towards Mordin’s desk, the drone stopped sharply and rotated backwards in midair

“Current headlines: Council Convenes to Address Krogan Diplomats, Salarian Raki Ditron Arrested on Suspicion of- Checking messages.”

“Program outpaces drone’s task management capabilities,” Mordin pointed. 

The drone vibrated uncertainly, running the light of its inventory lens over the wall and turning over in the air as it processed a new request. Bouncing off EDI’s chest as it continued to scan around it, the drone sputtered: “One n-n-n-ew message. New message. ’Message test, do not res-‘ Checking for software updates.”

The drone whizzed by Shepard, upsetting the stack of datapads on Tali’s desk. Circling back, the drone scanned the scattered pads, wavering from side to side. The drone’s fields flashed on and off, boosting the drone away from crashing into the floor at the last moment. 

“Greetings, I am Drone…” the drone rolled underfoot with a hiss of static. “Beginning inventory, beginning inventory scan, beginning in-veeeeen-tory…checking for software updates.”

The drone fizzled weakly, scraping against the floor and grinding to a halt EDI’s feet. The lights went dead, then flared brightly, accompanied by a garbled groan from the drone. With a loud pop, the lights burst out, leaving the drone’s frame crumpled.

Nudging the drone out from under her feet, EDI picked up the frame gingerly, holding it away from the organics and insisting, “Please be careful, the metal is hot.”

“Simplistic VI overly enthusiastic,” Mordin diagnosed to Shepard’s questioning stare. “Attempts to test all functions at once, putting problematic strain on the system. Like patting, rubbing, jumping-“

“Humming, kicking, and catching,” Shepard finished. “So that’s why the other one went haywire?”

“The program decided to turn the guns on and off to test them,” Tali nodded. “While the drone was proving it could move.”

“Regrettable malfunction. But, informative in hindsight,” Mordin reminded.

“The project notes say they’ve tried tried to make it so that program ends each task after the command is accepted,” Tali picked up her datapads. “But then it gives false positives, and they have to run the test manually anyway. There’s so many elements, when they fix one something else gets a glitch. But it took too long to write to completely scrap.” 

“It would be effective for very simple machinery,” Mordin mused. “Light switches. Radios.Doors.”

“The endeavor would be more effective with the incorporation of an AI like myself,” EDI observed. “If headlines can be updated, I can surmise that stocks and message updates will also run, and that software updates can be received. And, I do not need to fly the ship out of the hangar to prove that running engines are operational. Reasoning that a simplistic  VI may not apply.”

EDI placed the drone frame in Shepard’s hands, smiling to her audience for the information. Shepard smiled back, turning the frame between her hands awkwardly. EDI’s personal observations had greatly increased. Mordin was impressed with both EDI and Tali for the feat. EDI was also correct. Mordin envied EDI’s seamless multitasking throughout the ship. Masterfully maintained, without organic fatigue, Mordin considered wistfully.

“Could you use it?” Shepard asked EDI. “Or, improve it, so it might be useful to us?”

EDI tilted her head, looking at Shepard with an rare blank face.Tali ducked her head suddenly, and Mordin could see Shepard picking her nails behind her sleeve. Old hope combined with the stench of guilt, Mordin identified unhappily. Nagging, ineffective, and difficult to eradicate, in his experience. EDI reported obediently, “I may find a way to expand my already diverse diagnostic abilities on the Normandy by incorporating this new program. But I am unsure.”

“Do you want to try?” Shepard prodded.

“I would prefer not to,” EDI admitted instantly. “But if it is required, I will find a way.”

“No, I was spitballing out loud too much, I’m sorry,” Shepard replied just as quickly. More guilt, or rather remorse for the request, Mordin surmised. Setting the crumpled frame aside, Shepard asked, “Is this good news or bad news?”

“This is news,” Mordin said. “More information on the mercenaries is needed before it is ‘good’ or 'bad.’”

“We’re working on that,” Shepard assured while looking at Tali. “Anything yet?”

“Maybe we should give Elliot more than 48 hours,” Tali suggested.

Ah, yes, new factors, Mordin remembered. Prestigious Alliance intelligence officer with sources on _Omega_ , according to Garrus, cute female with pleasing posterior, according to James, and a desirable male according to Cortez. Shepard valued cooperation, as usual. Well, if they were off-ship, they wouldn’t interfere with research, and could prove useful. Would prefer salarian intelligence, but this was something, Mordin dismissed the fleeting concern.

“Anything else?” Shepard asked.

“Not at the moment,” Mordin concluded.

“Excuse me, Jeff is impatient to start the ship,” EDI nodded politely to all of them as she left.

Shepard waved to EDI before tossing the frame to Tali and following in EDI’s tracks. Walking backwards, Shepard asked, “Mordin, how’s the armor coming?”

“Acceptably,” Mordin reported succinctly. “Still considering speed enhancements, will keep you informed.

“Great,” Shepard tripped backwards on the doorstep and stumbled to catch herself. “Need anything?”

“We’re fine, Shepard,” Tali shooed Shepard away.

“Commander?” Joker interrupted loudly. “You’re getting a call from Khalisah al-Jilani coming in…want me to tell her ‘call back?’ Like, maybe in a decade?”

“No,” Shepard groaned upwards. “She already messaged me, she wants to talk about the Council’s response to Joab and what we were doing on the Citadel so soon. I’ll take it in the Comm room.”

“I’ll buy you steak if you let me tell her Allers already got an exclusive,” Joker bargained.

“I’ll forward the call to the Comm room, Commander,” EDI assured.

“Thank you, EDI. Good work,” Shepard bade Mordin and Tali goodbye.

Straightening his desk from the drone’s disruption, Mordin did not envy Shepard's public responsibilities. Research was much neater.With fewer reports. Better questions to consider. More productive work. Peace and quiet.

“This could be dangerous for the mercenaries,” Tali considered while stacking datapads. “If they try to use it on a weapon, it might kill them before we can find them. That would solve one problem.”

Relative peace and quiet, Mordin corrected himself morosely.


	23. Chapter 23

This was supposed to be a reward Wash reminded his reflection. This was proof he belonged here and even the Director thought so. Not North out of pity, or South because she wanted a pet to poke, or Connie because they were the babies of the group. He had earned this. 

 Wash didn’t even sound convincing to himself. He had hardly slept last night and had woken up feeling queasy. He wasn't even able to eat or drink before the procedure. The mood of the ship didn’t help; Maine was a lost cause, Wyoming was a wanker, Connie was irritable to be consistent, North and South were feuding, which made South mad at everyone and North mad at York, which made York unhappy, which made Carolina sour, and left Tex ignoring all of them. Wash hadn’t even gotten to grill York and North at meals with the others so absorbed in the disasterous trip to the Citadel. He was doing better than South. High standards.

Heading to the showers to distract himself, Wash was glad that he saw Tex returning to her bunk. She ignored Wash as usual, drying her hair behind her towel before slamming the door to her room. She deigned to eat at the same table as the rest of them now, Wash tried to find a bright side. But he had a sneaking suspicion that she was more interested in observing the AIs than talking with the rest of them, so maybe nothing had changed. 

“Better be thorough,” a still shirtless and damp Wyoming advised when he caught sight of Wash in the mirror above the row of sinks. “Be squeaky clean for the probing.”

“Shut up,” Wash threw his towel over the shower bar and yanked the shower curtain closed.

Wyoming clicked his scissors importantly over his mustache, filling the room with off-key warbling as he shaved. He was doing this on purpose. Wash gargled water as accompaniment, spraying water out between his teeth as he thought. It couldn't be as bad as he was imagining. York and North seemed happy enough. York had even maintained his sex life after getting Delta. Maine and Sigma were effective together, and Sigma made Maine seem personable from a distance. Maine and Wyoming had just had another check-up last night with no sign of problems, that had to be a good sign.

What would he get? Wash didn’t like the thought of being a human battery, but if he was going to be one it had better be something cool. Soaping his neck, Wash stroked the smooth skin above his top vertebrae with a sudden whimsical fondness. The closest he’d come to surgery was getting a bullet pulled out of his arm when he was seventeen, sewing up a knife slash on his upper thigh when he was twenty, and digging a piece of shrapnel the size of his hand out of his shoulder before he smeared medigel on it so he could shank a husk in the face. The policy had kept him alive this long, doctors be damned.

Scrubbing the coating of uneasy sweat off of himself, Wash shaved as quickly as possible and rushed back to his room to change into the plainest clothes he had. No use getting bloodstains on his good shirt. Turning the deodorant over thoughtfully, Wash yelped when his door boomed from a solid knock.

“Gimme a sec,” Wash called, grunting importantly after a voice crack.

“Oh great, he’s masturbating,” South announced loudly.

“I am not!!” Wash yowled and yanked his door open to greet the gathering of the twins, Connie, York, and Carolina.  

“Thank goodness,” Connie raised her lip in distaste.

The group was forcibly enthusiastic. York and North were standing together in carefully maintained silent truce. South was using Connie as an excuse to ignore North, a facade that cracked with every irritable pleading look in North's direction. Wash was impressed Connie hadn't snapped with Vega and South working on her last nerve, but he gave Connie until the end of the day before she took her anger out on someone. Carolina maintained the truce at the center, putting herself between York and North and leaving South and Connie exiled to the back. Wash would thank her later.

“Let’s go, you’re already late,” Carolina grabbed Wash’s shoulder and ignored the other women.

“ _I’m_ the patient,” Wash protested to Carolina pushing him down the hall. “They _have_ to wait for me. What else are they doing?”

“Service employees really like you, don’t they?” North teased, flicking Wash in the back of the head to mess up his hair.“There’s a lot to do, it’s better to start early.”

“Nervous?” Carolina asked, patting Wash on the back when he had to gulp before he could answer. “Come on, they already used York and North for practice, and they didn’t screw them up too badly.”

“Examinations show the agent’s brain function does not suffer following the procedure,” Delta popped into the air and drifted backwards to speak to the agents. “Given results, the likelihood of success is good, Agent Washington.”

“ _You_ are the results,” Wash reminded. 

“That does not effect objective statistics,” Delta protested calmly. “Data indicates a 100% success rate. Those are favorable odds.”

Delta bobbed in the air in confirmation and shined with bright certainty. Carolina slapped Wash’s shoulder encouragingly. If Delta was the most reassuring move they had, Wash didn’t give a rat’s ass about raw data. York twitched his hand and Delta flashed to his shoulder to listen as York mumbled.

“Great, even he’s trying to chit-chat,” South grumbled bitterly. “Is that a new gimmick Sigma made hip?”

“I was attempting to reassure Agent Washington,” Delta explained. “Scans indicate an elevated pulse and muscle tension. The procedure will be easier for everyone involved if Agent Washington is calm.”

Wash’s stomach sank at the advice. Stay calm, stay calm. Don’t think about a doctor shoving machinery into his neck and using his brain as a hard drive. Nothing to worry about. What could possibly go wrong?

“Ok, D, you can stop,” York advised. “A for effort.”

“Effort without result is unhelpful,” Delta observed.

“Bingo,” York chuckled to the AI. “You can work on it later, ok?”

“Both of you are not helping,” Carolina interjected, keeping a firm arm over Wash’s shoulder.

York bounced his shoulder and Delta vanished without further protests. Wash should have asked him more questions. Did the AI’s have a mute? No, Wyoming had proved that. 

“Sack up, Davy,” South pinched both of Wash’s sides before Carolina could block her.“Try having bigger balls than…Sigma.”

North clapped his hands over Wash’s ears, steering Wash forcefully towards the medical wing. Caught in a muted world under Carolina’s arm, and between North’s hands, Wash had more time to think. They wouldn’t really put balls on an AI, would they? Then again, why would they make Sigma a flaming shadow? What if he got the programmer with a sick sense of humor, bored after months of work?

“If he gets any paler, they won’t need anesthetic,” Connie warned just as North peeled his hands away.

“Er…” York pulled a face. “That’s not really part of the package. They give you somethingto numb the pain so you’ll stay still, but they don’t put you under.”

“What?!” Wash lurched away from North’s second attempt to cover his ears. 

“They need you awake,” North explained, sharing Wash’s frown in sympathy. “To make sure it’s working.”

“Can’t they just knock me out, do their thing, and I’ll let them know when I wake up?” Wash begged. 

“They need you talking, communicating with the AI, giving them some context. They’ve been prepped with databases, but not much else. It’s mostly new for them too,” North explained. “And you’ll want to be awake to feel the change and decide on some basic guidelines.”

“Guidelines?” Wash gulped.

“Oh, yeah. The ‘physical’ part is weird to them, I had to talk D out of giving me status updates about my bodily functions,” York elaborated. “And tell him not to run equations when I’m trying to talk, it’s too noisy. And to not interrupt every time I get something a little wrong.”

“Are you sure he heard that one?” South scoffed.

“Trust me, it could be a lot worse, he wanted-wants, but won’t- to correct numbers _and_ grammar.”

“Theta was weird about body stuff too,” North picked up the horror stories. “It took twenty minutes to convince him that he didn’t need to _make_ me breathe and blink to match the human average. And the talking thing, it takes practice keeping their thoughts in your head.”

“And you have to set some boundaries,” York continued with a glance in North's direction. “They spend all day in your head, they’re going to poke around to understand things and pick up on stuff you think about. If you _don’t_ want them rummaging somewhere, you kinda have to set up a mental block so they know to keep out. And you don’t want an AI flipping through your spank bank…D doesn’t _care_ , but he sciences the sexy out.”

“Theta kinda cares…” North contradicted while pointedly ignoring York's grovelling. “Biologically, he gets it, but he finds sleep and hunger weird enough, and doesn’t always get social cues yet, so junk and tits do not help.” 

“What part of that did you think was helpful?” Carolina asked, pushing Wash forward and out of North and York’s reach.“The doctors know what they’re doing, and you’re ready. A couple days from now, you’ll be showing off on the training floor.”

Wash wasn’t stupid enough to believe all of Carolina’s bravado, but she sounded so certain that Wash’s stomach risked settling back into place. Carolina was stubbornly realistic, and detested sugar coating anything. If she thought Wash could handle this, it was futile to argue.

Conviction was easy to muster up in the hallway. Then the bright lights of the medical wing appeared around the corner, and Wash’s stomach tried to crawl up his throat. This was insanity. He didn’t need machinery in his skull. Biotics had some, sure, but that was to keep them from blowing themselves up. That technology had been around for years, and it still wasn’t foolproof. Who was he kidding, he wasn’t meant to be a cyborg. He was just some gutter rat who had conned his way into some luck.

“What if…maybe-“

“Nope, we’re already here,” York snagged Wash out from under Carolina’s arm, turning him to face the other agents just after Wash saw the doctors coming for him. 

Wash nodded, swallowing back bile. It was insane to do this, humiliating not to. North braced Wash’s shoulder sympathetically, promising, “It’ll be ok. You get used to is faster than you’d think.”

“But you got the nice one,” Wash reminded.

“And after Delta tried to cheer you up,” York gasped in mock shock. Losing his teasing smirk, York assured, “North’s right, it doesn’t seem as weird once you feel it. And it’s gonna be worth it.”

North nodded in confirmation, taking his hand away as Carolina turned Wash towards the waiting doctors. Pushing Wash forward, Carolina urged, “You’re up.”

“Please follow me, Agent Washington,” the nurse waved her hand at Wash to obey her.

Wash tried to nod, following the nurse into the chill and sterile brightness of the medical wing. He caught sight of other white coats moving out of the corner of his eye, but stuck to the coattail in front of him to be safe until he ran into a hospital bed that practically glowed under the bright lights. Wash jerked his head up, his stomach twisting against itself at the sight of the flock of doctors busting around him. It shouldn't take this many doctors to cut open one guy. Wash caught the flash of metal instruments, cold, sharp, and ready for cutting. The scalpel was the least lethal looking tool on the tray, next to a set of pliers, a syringe, and something Wash decided was a misplaced nail gun.  Wash shuffled away from the bed, hoping he had followed the wrong jacket.  This wasn't just insanity. This was goddamn stupid.

“Agent Washington? If you could remove your shirt and sit on the bed please?” the nearest doctor-a thin middle-aged man who reeked of antiseptic and disappointment-crushed Wash's hopes with a simple order. 

Wash found himself obeying, peeling off his shirt and lying down to stare up at the lights as he shivered. He already had a headache, that couldn’t be a good sign. Were they going to shave his head? No, that was stupid, everyone but Maine had appeared with their hair, and Maine probably hadn’t had any…ever. At least if they paralyzed him, he’d have his hair. Goody.

“Alright, Agent Washington,” the same doctor was back with a medical file. “Everything looks set. We’ll insert the implant, make sure you’ve established contact with the AI Epsilon, and run some tests.”

“Epsilon?” Wash tested the name. “That’s the little…thing’s name?”

“Yes. For the time being, I’d ask that you refer to it by that name, to prevent confusion,” the doctor nodded. “If you prefer an abbreviation like Agent York, you can establish that later. We’re going to disengage the gravity, make sure your neck is numb, the procedure itself shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Er…ok…” Wash let the doctor tip him backwards by the head until he was flat on the uncomfortable medical table. 

“Switch off gravity,” the doctor ordered, keeping a hand on Wash’s shoulder and hip as the table dropped away. Christ, this man’s hands were cold, Wash felt goosebumps rise over his whole body. This was not the last sensation Wash wanted to feel in this world.

“Deep breaths, try to stay still,” the doctor instructed flatly as he rotated Wash, leaving the agent staring at the floor. “You’ll feel a little sting as we apply the local anesthetic.”

“Um…”

Wash tensed at the feel of a sharp chill brushing over his neck before a sudden prick. He had never felt the back of his neck go numb before, but it was somehow worse than the goosebumps, leaving him listening to the clicks and pings of medical tools. He'd take the doctor's hands over the tingling numbness.

“We’ll make a small incision, and put the implant just under the skin,” the doctor talked as if it was reassuring. “You should start feeling the AI almost immediately.”

“What’s that gonna feel like?” Wash watched drops of sweat and spittle drift under his face.

“It varies,” the doctor was worse than Delta. “The AI’s voice should come through clearly, but Sigma and Delta spoke more quickly than Gamma and Theta. You’re going to hear a ‘pop‘ as we insert the implant, in three, two...”

The ‘pop’ went off like a gun blast, and Wash’s head exploded with light and screeches. The floor under him seemed to drop away into a dense fog, the edges of his eyes bleeding into a blur just enough to convince him that he wasn’t blind. The mechanical screeches intensified, until they exploded out of Wash’s mouth and shredded his throat.

What was this? Wash choked on the question. This wasn’t quiet, this was deafening. The smoky world around him constricted and rippled out, leaving Wash feeling crushed and minuscule at the same time. He couldn’t feel his heart pounding, or the cold sweat on his body, as if the numbness from his neck had spread over the rest of him. The screeches adopted a rhythm, punctuated by crackling burning until Wash was praying for numbness. 

“Stop, stop!! I can’t…I need-” someone screamed into the rushing noise while cutting pain arcing across Wash’s skull and made the world warp in front of his eyes.

“Agent Washington, you need to take deep-“ someone else ordered.

“Please, just let me try…I just need a little more-“ Wash’s head begged. A blinding blue flash bored  into Wash’s eyes and spread across his body, tearing into his muscles and cracking his bones. 

“Agent Washington…”

“Stop! Get it out, _get it out!!_ ” Wash finally remembered how to work his own mouth. “Fuck this, _get-_ “

“No! I can do this!” Wash’s brain interrupted, overriding Wash’s begging. “I just need a chance to…”

“David, can you try to stop-“

“ ** _I CAN!_ ” **Wash’s head howled, pinpricks of pain driving into every nerve Wash didn't know he had.

“Shut up!” Wash screamed at everyone. “Shut up, please _shut up!!”_

Then it did. Wash savored the silence before plummeting into a black abyss that had replaced the hospital floor.

* * *

 

Wash jolted awake from a pulsing kick to the back of his neck. Wash's hand was clapped over his mouth,  catching a wave of vomit just before it escaped. His body flooded itself with cold sweat for some reason and he had a throbbing headache. Wait, why was he looking at the floor and wanting to puke? And why was he half naked? Wash struggled to remember the last stupid decision he had made last night. His brain felt hollow, and bloated, slamming his thoughts against themselves until Wash looped back around to wondering why he was staring at the floor. He had woken up to worse; at least this floor looked clean.

“Agent Washington?”

Right, that was him. He was in the clinic. That’s why the floor was so clean. He was staring at the floor while a frigid-skinned doctor sliced into his neck. He was supposed to be talking to an AI right now, not himself. There had been a blinding flash and agonizing bolt of pain from the promised ‘pop,’ and now he was here. The current mute chasm in Wash’s head was worse than the jolt, barely letting him register the muffled nonsense of the doctors. There was a eating quiet and dark spreading at the back of his skull, settling into a wrenching confusion in his stomach. 

“Agent Washington?” the question became clearer. “Can you hear me? You should have some feedback form the Epsilon now, can you-“

_Epsilon?_ Wash’s stomach dropped straight down as the question rang through his skull.

_“_ Epsilon?” the question burst from Wash’s mouth before he could stop it.

“Yes, Epsilon, your AI,” the doctor reminded smoothly. “Agent-

_Agent Washington?_ Wash heard, something filling in the void in his head. 

Wash tried not to actually puke as an images erupted behind his eyes. That was him, Little David running after his older sister while his mother watched from the stoop. And there was awkward teen Davy in a stupid cheap suit, looking down at his mother’s coffin without his sister in sight, the loneliness skewing his chest with fresh clarity as the years between then and now somehow vanished. Stupid Davy, craning his head back with Sasha’s knife at his throat and Nate’s gun in his face, waiting for them to decide whether or not tolerating him was worth it.David, staying obediently in Nate’s shadow while Carolina and Elliot looked over Wash’s supplies in a crater and a Reaper made London its landing pad. Agent Washington, snapping on his armor and catching the ammunition that Connie tossed to him on the way to the shuttle. And now, half naked and shivering as he stared at a floor in mute helplessness. 

“Ssss…” Wash tried to say anything, without even knowing what he wanted.

_David. Agent Washington. That’s you. Huh_ , the voice sounded incredulous.

“Yea…yeah,” Wash felt compelled to answer when the images stopped and something made him feel uneasy over his own memories. “That’s me. Wash works too.”

_Wash?_ the voice sounded amused, startling Wash with a splash of water he could see and feel overlapping with the floor and cool air of the room. South smirked out from Wash’s head, tapping the uselesstrigger of her gun and laughing at him. _Davy?_

“No,” Wash corrected firmly.

_Wash, not Davy…ok, got it_ , the voice sounded more stable, adopting a masculine pitch and disorienting Wash with another flash of images.  Wash squeezed his eyes shut so he only had to see one thing, choking on vomit as Epsilon rattled off his life faster than he could interrupt. He should be embarrassed for most of it, but he didn’t have time before Epsilon was screeching to a halt in the present. Epsilon paused on the other AI, his curiosity making Wash nauseous as he considered Delta carefully, picking up on Wash’s confusion when he got to Sigma.

“Are you speaking with-“

_Epsilon?_ the voice finished for the doctor, latching onto the name Wash had and banishing the images of the other AI.

“Epsilon,” Wash swallowed queasily when the name came out of his mouth. “That’s you. Hey, can I be flipped, I’m gonna-“

_Epsilon…that…works_ , the voice decided unhappily, making Wash’s heart pound as the doctors rotated him and replaced the hard table under his back. _Epsilon…meh._

"Epsilon," Wash solidified the name.

“Epsilon?” the doctor asked, peering down at Wash. “Can you please project?”

Epsilon didn’t relish the idea, and neither did Wash at the moment. Epsilon crawled through Wash’s thoughts, trying to place the doctors and scanning Wash for signs of damage. Before Wash could feel touched, he felt a kick in the back of his neck, yelping and covering the fresh scar with his hands.

_Oops…shit,_ the biting pain faded to a dull ache. _Give me…This is…weird._

“This is…weird _,”_ Wash agreed. 

“Agent Washington, we need Epsilon to establish a projection before we begin the tests,” the same doctor prompted, getting progressively more wrinkled and impatient.

“Tests?” Wash and Epsilon asked in unison with a fresh stab of fear.

The chasm in Wash’s head widened into the dark silence. Epsilon retreated into the back, making Wash’s pulse ram against his chest. Wash tucked his legs under the medical table as his muscles tensed and he tried to shrink without meaning to.

“Of course. We need to make sure everything is working,” the doctor prompted.

_No_ , Epsilon corrected suddenly.

“N-,” Wash swallowed the word back. “N…Nnnn…”

**_No_ , **Epsilon insisted.

“Nnnnn…not-!” Wash tried to change Epsilon’s decree. “Stop that!”

Wash groped through his head for words to put Epsilon in his place. Wash’s neck twanged with Epsilon's resentment, but Wash ignored him, settling on the ranking board. Epsilon kept the image up, studying it curiously and with a sense of loathing Wash shared. But 'no' wasn't an option. This was why he was hired, the only option was success or stagnation, and the Director didn’t take kindly to stagnation.

_Director_? Epsilon interrupted with a spark of recognition, tracing the steely reflection from the Director’s glasses as he considered Wash disapprovingly. _Nope. Nice try. No._

“If we can’t establish a projection and communication, we’ll have to remove the implant,” the doctor warned, sounding kind and leaving Wash on edge and Epsilon watching through Wash’s eyes. 

“See?” Wash blurted to combat Epsilon’s resolve.

Epsilon made Wash’s stomach roil until Wash almost agreed. In spite of the dread, Wash focussed on his annoyance.Epsilon inspected Wash for signs of harm, creeping into the forefront of Wash’s thoughts with the knowledge that everything was operating correctly. Well, pulse was fast, but Wash felt himself take a deep breath that slowed that down. Studying the leader board, with Texas at the top, Carolina next, and Wash sitting just below the bottom, Epsilon slowly warmed the chill in Wash’s stomach. Considering his fellow AI’s all at once, Epsilon left Wash’s mind blank when Wash’s retched.

_Fine_ , Epsilon’s concession snapped coldly. _Let’s get this over with._

Wash winced as the implant kicked and his omnitool flickered. In spite of the headache and nausea, Wash felt a burst of anticipation when a wavering blue figure appeared to stand on his knee. Light blue, almost translucent, Epsilon looked like Delta and Theta. That was a relief. He barely materialized, watery and reluctant while he looked up at Wash for praise. Flashing out, Epsilon appeared at the end of Wash’s nose.

“Yo,” Epsilon said conversationally as he flicked his wrist at Wash, disappearing and reappearing several inches back.

_Uh…yo_ , Wash told himself while looking at Sigma, followed by Epsilon asking, _Right?_

Great, it had a sense of humor. Epsilon’s voice was sharp, unlike Theta’s childish warble or Sigma’s smooth tone, but entirely lacked Delta’s mechanical snap or Gamma’s drone, leaving room for intonation and a bite of amusement in his words. Sensing mockery, Wash wondered if they hadn’t meant to pair Epsilon with South. No, they gave AIs complimentary parties, South and Epsilon would be-

_A menace?_ Epsilon finished Wash’s train of thought. _Ok, ok, here._

“Hello Agent Washington,” Delta’s voice grated out from Epsilon’s hologram in partnership with Epsilon’s sarcastic jab in Wash’s head. “I am the artificial intelligence program…Epsilon.”

“Hi…” Wash wiggled his fingers at the AI. 

_I’m_ ** _in_ **_you,_ Epsilon greeted in Wash’s head. _I’d say we’re past the ‘hi’ part._

“You said it,” Wash reminded. “Why do you-“

“I was attempting to keep you calm,” Epsilon continued aloud in Delta’s clinical report. Epsilon flickered thoughtfully, finishing in his own drawling voice, “I’m barely out of the box, I don’t have a lot to work with here for small talk.”

“Hello, Epsilon,” the doctor leaned down to consider Epsilon’s hologram. “We need to run some tests.”

Epsilon disappeared with a savage stab, his blue glow catching Wash’s eye from where Epsilon had taken a stance on his shoulder. The previously fading headache crashed back in full force. Epsilon blinked out, retreating to the back of Wash’s head.

_No_ , Epsilon decided.

_“_ Yes,” Wash contradicted, hitting Epsilon and his own brain with the leadership board.

_I’m not a performing monkey,_ Epsilon insisted.

“What tests?” Wash asked apprehensively with Epsilon.

“Very basic physical tests first,” the doctor pulled a stool up to the table and leaned forward. “To ensure there aren’t any adverse effects to the procedure.”

_Fancy way of saying they could have fucked up_ , Epsilon grumbled. Sensing Wash’s impending command, Epsilon shrank reluctantly. _Fine. You’re ok, but they can prove it._

Epsilon watched suspiciously as Wash followed a penlight with his eyes and lifted his arms and legs. The tasks were easy to Wash’s relief, interrupted only by Epsilon scanning Wash’s body for trauma after each one, Epsilon ignored Wash’s attempt to think “knock it off,” settling down when the doctor stopped poking in Wash’s ear.

“That looks good,” the doctor decided and tugged his coat straight. “Now, we need to test your communication with the AI.”

“That’s working,” Wash wished he knew if he snapped that or if Epsilon had thought it loud enough to throw it out of his mouth.

“Still, there’s more to the AI than basic conversation,” the doctor rose from his chair. “Stay facing that way, please, Epsilon, face me.”

Epsilon stayed stubborn, appearing in front of Wash’s chest as the doctor circled behind him. Wash’s frustration battled with Epsilon’s persistent unease. It was a raw emotion, overwhelming Wash’s annoyance despite his best efforts. Maybe this was the time he was supposed to be setting boundaries, so Epsilon didn’t think he-

_Ok_ , _I_ ** _get_** _it, your body your rules,_ Epsilon conceded with another swell of apprehension and unhappiness. The pressure in Wash’s head eased as Epsilon faded in front of him _._

Epsilon vanished, leaving Wash staring at the empty space the AI had been in while feeling Epsilon levitating behind his back and staring at the doctor. Epsilon ran another scan on Wash’s body, only adding to Wash's confusion. Epsilon was doing his job, but he didn’t seem to like it. Maybe Wash was overthinking this. Epsilon hadn’t even been active for more than an hour. AIs didn't "like" and "dislike" things like that. Could AI’s even be intentionally sarcastic? Wash wondered as resentment joined Wash’s annoyance and Epsilon’s previous apprehension.

_Can you be_ ** _unintentionally_** _sarcastic_? Epsilon countered. That answered that, Wash scratched his neck irritably. 

“I’m going to show Epsilon some cards with pictures, and I want Agent Washington to tell me what they are.”

_Goody_ , Epsilon thought for Wash. 

Wash swung his feet until he felt Epsilon starting to run another scan on him. The scan cut off abruptly to the sound of rustling paper, giving Wash bare warning before, “ **APPLE** ” burst out of his mouth while the crunch of an apple under his teeth joined the picture of a glistening red apple in his head.

“Good,” the doctor said alongside the rustle of paper.

**_“CAT!!”_** Wash bellowed in response to the tabby pouncing his brain; it was painfully vivid, tabby with soft fur , sharp claws, and the acrid smell of pee. It was as clear as the cot under him and doctor in front of him, only to disappear as soon as Epsilon got distracted. It didn’t _hurt_ , Wash supposed, but it wasn’t comfortable either.

“Excellent,” the doctor praised condescendingly. “But shouting out your shared information could be disastrous in combat. Epsilon, perhaps you can try to speak _to_ Agent Washington _,_ not _through_ him.”

Epsilon seethed at the criticism for no particular reason, waiting in complete silence as the paper rustled again. Wash braced himself in preparation for another wave of information and discomfort. Epsilon coursed through his thoughts, lurching to a stop and leaving Wash with another void in his head. Epsilon hesitated, fading behind a dark space Wash could feel in his mind.

Wash rubbed his hands together in the cold room. He could still feel Epsilon lurking as the AI thought, but the swirl of images was kept at bay by the pane of dark quiet. Dark, warm, quiet if Wash really thought about it, but that didn’t make sense. Maybe this was the mental block that North and York had talked about. But shouldn’t Wash have set that up, not-

_It’s your bunk with the lights off. No noise and not much to see,_ Epsilon informed with his constant annoyance. S _o you’ll stop yelling the first thing I show you. Pay attention and just go with it._

Before Wash could object to being told to “ go with” his own brain, Epsilon faded the barrier, leaving Wash feeling nauseous from a creeping burst of color.

_Close your eyes_ , Epsilon warned.

Wash’s eyes were shut before he processed the suggestion. Wash expected another barrage of images to bludgeon him. Instead, the pinprick of color spread out slowly. Wash fought down a burst of confusion at the sight of the doctor holding up a small card with a picture of a car, for all the world as if Wash was still sitting in front of him.

_Ha, it works_ , Epsilon thought triumphantly.

“Car,” Wash let the thought out slowly while Epsilon waited. 

“Very good,” the doctor sounded impressed, shuffling his supplies.

Wash tentatively opened his eyes, shutting them quickly when his stomach rebelled. Epsilon studied the new card in confusion and expanded it to fill Wash’s field of vision. Wash hesitated uncertainly when he felt Epsilon wait for his verdict on the blotches of black scattered across the card’s blank white surface.

_What the shit?_ Epsilon asked irritably of the doctor. _That’s not a thing._

“Um…I dunno, it’s just black spots, it’s not a thing,” Wash answered.

“It’s an inkblot,” the doctor sounded approving, only increasing Epsilon’s annoyance. “It isn’t anything, but Delta, Gamma, and Sigma thought it was a misprint.”

“So…I’m right?” Epsilon asked aloud behind Wash’s back. 

“Yes, you and Agent Washington gave a correct answer,” the doctor corrected. "Very good."

_Trick questions,_ Epsilon grumbled at Wash. _Goody._

Wash didn’t want to agree, but did, his headache swelling the longer the test went on. Epsilon got increasingly impatient as he got every question right, until Wash felt a burst of relief with Epsilon when the doctor flipped the last card. Perfect marks-

_Maybe they’ll get off our ass_ , Epsilon thought for Wash, disappearing from sight behind Wash’s back.

“Epsilon, we aren’t quite finished,” the doctor scolded. “I have some final questions for Agent Washington.”

Epsilon waited just long enough to prove his point before he reappeared, barely visible, in front of Wash’s chest. Wash sighed without thinking. This was not starting off well, and if Delta’s boldness was any indication, it was only going to get worse. Epsilon’s hologram darkened into a clear outline, almost as clear as Delta's.

“Thanks.” Wash blurted against Epsilon’s displeasure.

_Like I have a choice_ , Epsilon grumbled, directing his annoyance at the doctor.

“Agent Washington, you were quite…distressed during the procedure,” the doctor prompted. Epsilon shifted uncertainly, slamming the dark pane down in response to the memory of the blinding light and spike of agony. Wash hastily shoved the memory away. One of the many reasons not to get something shot into your spine, Wash felt Epsilon shudder. 

_They didn’t knock you out_ ** _before_** _shooting you in the neck?_ Epsilon observed. _That’s…kinda hardcore._

“I saved them some anesthetic,” Wash rubbed the tender scar on his neck. “Lucky me.”

“Yes, you did briefly lose consciousness following the implantation,” the doctor furrowed his brow at Wash, prying, “Do you remember shouting?”

Wash shook his head. The others would have a field day if they found that part out. Epsilon searched for him, quickly shutting off the memory as soon as the stab of pain turned to groggy fog. Wash could feel his throat sting when he swallowed back bile. Sometimes there were benefits of having a mediocre pain threshold. Maybe.

_I thought they had knocked you out on purpose,_ Epsilon explained. _I wasn’t ready to run diagnostics yet. Shit._

“I’ve passed out before,” Wash grumbled away another scan.

“It’s not entirely unexpected,your system was under a great deal of stress,” the doctor explained soothingly. “How do you feel now?”

Wash’s head felt like it was going to explode. His stomach was sloshing and trying to decide which exit would be more embarrassing. He could feel his neck again. His skin no longer felt as if it was being forcibly peeled off. Mixed bag, really. Epsilon spasmed again, reminding Wash that having his neck regain feeling only made Epsilon’s uncertainty jab into more places.

“Ok,” Wash decided before he had to answer more questions. “Headache, but I know that’s kinda the norm with these things. Kinda feel hungover, I guess.”

“That also isn’t uncommon,” the doctor took the description in suspicious stride. “We’ll keep monitoring you over the next several weeks, to catch any more serious changes. Do you have pain anywhere else?”

Not anymore, Wash flexed his arms and legs to be sure. His neck hurt when he rolled it, but the scar tissue was still fresh, so that was expected. Epsilon had stopped rampaging through his thoughts, Wash blinked a warning when Epsilon stirred uncertainly.

“Nope. Stiff, but I’m good,” Wash became aware of his shivering arms and chest. “Can I get dressed now?”

“Of course, let’s get you up and walking around,” the doctor decided, handing Wash his shirt.

Epsilon vanished as soon as the doctor moved, keeping an eye on the medical staff while Wash’s head was covered by his shirt and sending the information to the back of Wash’s eyes. Popping his head out of the neck hole, Wash whispered, “You’re a surveillance AI, right?”

_I’d be pretty pathetic if I was just a glorified camera,_ Epsilon corrected.

“So, what do you do?” 

Epsilon pondered the question just as Wash realized his mistake. Wash’s omnitool flashed harshly and Wash’s muscles nearly collapsed from Epsilon’s curious pull of energy. North had tried to warn him AIs were clueless, Wash prepared to face plant. Wash’s hip slammed into the table in an effort to catch himself, the bolt of pain transferring to his ass when it hit the floor.

“Stop!” Wash ordered as he felt another scan cresting. “It’s a bruise, I don’t need that!”

Epsilon shrank into his shelter behind the dark pane as a gaggle of nurses helped Wash to his feet. Wash shook himself out of their clutches. He and Epsilon had one thing in common, at least. Two, Wash decided to count Epsilon’s growing fondness for profanity.

“Epsilon, using energy outside of the Agent Washington’s armor is dangerous for you both,” the head doctor scolded.

“I asked him what he did,” Wash grumbled judiciously as he felt Epsilon shiver over the reprimand,

“Please, focus on the basics,” the doctor turned his disapproval on Wash. "We'll be monitoring you over the next few days before you return to training."

“Thanks for the warning,”Epsilon snapped through Wash, peering over his cover.

Wash rubbed his hip and ass gingerly as a reminder for both of them. Epsilon raised his barrier, concentrating on taking in the passing hospital and corridor. It wasn’t as jarring as Wash’s mind entirely being dumped out, but Wash struggled to keep from watching with Epsilon while he was walking in the opposite direction. It would help in battle, Wash finally found a silver lining as he dodged a nurse he had confused with the one Epsilon was watching. That was all that mattered.

_Of course it is_ , Wash couldn’t tell is Epsilon’s bite was sarcasm or not. _I’ll work on that._

Epsilon went dead silent as the med bay doors opened and Wash saw the other agents in the waiting room. Wash jerked to a stop on the threshold when Epsilon caught sight of Theta on his skateboard. It was nothing unusual, Wash explained; now that he wasn’t afraid of everything that moved, Theta often skated on any available surface when he was bored. York was clearly working, mumbling to Delta by his ear and adding to Epsilon’s interest.

_Where’d Theta learn to skateboard?_ Epsilon asked with genuine confusion, watching the older AI flip his board over a mug North had set up for him.

“I-“

Before Wash could explain, Epsilon was opening his locker. Glancing down at the battered old skateboard Wash had kept out of laziness more than sentimentality, Epsilon turned with Wash to listen to the first question Theta had dared to ask him directly: “What’s that for?”

_Just dickin’ around on_ , Epsilon quoted Wash with the same amusement he said Wash's name. Wash flinched from the sting of concrete on his knees and hands from an old fall. _He’s better than you are._

“He’s not solid!”

_Touché. We get to give gravity the finger too._  

Epsilon lowered his dark wall slowly, sitting in Wash’s head as they observed the hallway outside. The sight of the other AI and the dim hallways past the med bay’s stark lights distracted Epsilon, and Wash snatched the chance to regain his bearings. Without Epsilon trying to monitor everything at once, the headache had dulled to a light throb and his stomach had decided to stay in one place. 

_Where’s the rest of them?_ Epsilon asked.

“Tex, Maine, and Wyoming don’t really do group gatherings,” Wash explained. “You’ll see them around.”

_Oh_ , Epsilon absorbed sullenly.

“Wanna come out?” Wash asked, tapping his shoulder to remind Epsilon where he should be.

_Why_? Epsilon asked.

“You could say hello to them,” Wash offered.

_We’re not supposed to do that_ , Epsilon reminded sharply. 

“I meant the other agents,” Wash soothed with as much sincerity as possible.

Epsilon had South sneer at Wash for him for the placating clarification. Wash tried not to think smug thoughts too loudly when Epsilon materialized in front of him. He could feel Epsilon’s curiosity growing the longer he observed Wash’s associates in reality. Maybe, Wash kept the hope in a corner of his head, maybe this could work. 

“Ok,” Epsilon declared, rising to speak to Wash directly. “Fine. I can do a meet and greet.”

Epsilon streamed forward just before Wash walked through him, bouncing through the door as Wash swung it open. Delta and Theta disappeared the instant North and York saw him, startling Epsilon into vanishing himself.

“Nuh uh, we’re not doing this again,” Wash reminded. “Come out.”

“Problems, Davy?” South laughed while Wash smacked his shoulder.

“No, I’m f-“ Wash started to retort before the words strangled themselves.

_Fine, you’re a slavering bitch,_ Epsilon thought at South and reluctantly admitted to Wash.

“Ok, fine, you’re a-“ Wash snapped his mouth shut. “Sssshit.”

Wash saw the words spill out of his face without his permission. Epsilon’s surprised cringe jarred Wash’s spine an instant later.Wash wouldn’t call it guilt when Epsilon retreated into his hollow, but Wash felt a spark of remorse when South’s eyes widened dangerously.

_Shit_ , Epsilon agreed.

“Uh…” Wash gulped and wished Epsilon would try saying something useful. “Epsilon was just trying to recognize you. South. That's South Dakota.”

"No, let the new toy finish," South's eyes blazed.

“South, shut up,” Carolina ordered over South swelling indignantly. “Give them a minute to adjust before giving them shit. How’re you feeling, Wash?”

Epsilon quieted while Wash pondered Carolina’s simple question. In spite of Epsilon’s rising apprehension the closer Carolina got, this apprehension lacked Epsilon’s loathing for doctors, settling on nervous recognition and tentative tolerance for the agents clustered around them.

“Come on,” Wash urged against the widening shadow in his mind. “Just a hello. Like a performing monkey? Stop that.”

_Still working on it_ , Epsilon mumbled petulantly.

“At least we know he’s in there. Want me to get Delta out?” York offered.

_No._

“No,” Wash blurted. “Damn it.”

_No_ , Epsilon maintained unapologetically for getting worse.

Wash barely opened his mouth to add his own words before Epsilon materialized in front of his face. Epsilon split his attention between York and Carolina, drifting closer to York while he angled towards Carolina. 

“Hello, Agent Carolina,” Epsilon greeted flatly, the crisp edge of Delta’s voice just audible. “I am…I am the AI program…Epsilon.”

“Hello Epsilon,” Carolina said down to him before repeating to Wash. “How are you feeling?”

“Ok,” Wash stretched his back. “That shot hurts like a _bitch_ , and Epsilon’s not sure he likes the world.“

“Hello Agent York,” Epsilon interrupted with the snap of Delta at the surface. “Agent Washington is suffering some muscle tension and cephalalgia, but I detect no serious discrepancies in his vital functions.” 

“Hey, Epsilon,” York chuckled. “The headache’ll get better, and I’m sure the doctors would have found something if it was wrong.”

“Yes,” Epsilon agreed externally and scoffed internally. “I am sure they would.”

“You seem to be doing well,” North added encouragingly. 

Epsilon zoomed to Wash’s shoulder to stare at North. Peering out from behind Wash’s ear, Epsilon mumbled carefully, “Thank you. Agent Washington responded well to the tests.”

Wash glanced at Epsilon in confusion. Epsilon’s words to York and Carolina had been respectful, but his latest words lost Epsilon’s nasal drawl and Delta’s edge to subtly soften into Theta’s sheepish squeak. Epsilon’s lightstrengthened defensively at Wash’s insinuation. Epsilon liked North, York, and Carolina, based on Wash’s assessment. Better to be an AI they already liked than risk Sigma and Gamma’s reception.

“At least he doesn’t _look_ weirder,” Connie observed.

“Connie?” Epsilon burst out of Wash’s mouth and his hologram simultaneously.

“Yeah…”

“Nice to meet you, Agent Connecticut,” Epsilon adopted Theta’s apologetic mumble. “Or Connie? You go by both.”

“Let’s stick to Agent Connecticut,” Connie frowned.

“Agent Connecticut. Ok,” Epsilon agreed, looking at South as he finished addressing Connie. Wash’s stomach swam as Epsilon’s teasing tolerance melted into suspicion. Epsilon flickered, saying carefully, “Hello, Agent South Dakota.”

Wash swallowed shakily and he saw North’s mouth jerk as Sigma’s smooth manner sang through Epsilon’s slow greeting. Epsilon struggled to trust Wash’s belief that South’s bark was worse than her bite, while hoping Sigma’s voice to placate South’s temper.

“Yeah, hi,” South waved her hand through Epsilon to grab Wash’s chin and wrench his head sideways. “God, you were ugly enough.”

“Knock it off,” Wash craned his head back from South’s fingers prodding the tender scar.“Don’t-“

“-touch that, Agent South Dakota,” Epsilon continued with Sigma’s straight forward style. “It is uncomfortable for Agent Washington.”

South jerked back from Epsilon’s bright flash between her face and Wash’s head. Epsilon stood perfectly still at the end of Wash’s nose while the implant hummed under Washs skin, ignoring Wash's order to loosen up. North tugged South back by her elbow with his eyes on Epsilon.

“Sorry,” Wash slammed the dark pane down on Epsilon’s boiling discomfort. “That still hurts.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” North jerked sharply on South’s arm. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Carolina blinked once at Epsilon’s flash before her. “You’re even paler than you were earlier.”

“Are you sure Delta-?” York prompted.

_No._

“Noooah,” Wash redirected Epsilon’s curt refusal. “No. No. No.”

“Ok, we got it,” York assured slowly. “But it might help calm Epsilon down.”

**_No_ , **Epsilon kicked down the dark wall Wash was shoving him behind. 

“I don’t need assistance with integration,” Epsilon announced to the poised North and York. “Thank you.”

“Wash?” Carolina asked.

“You’re going to meet them eventually,” Wash talked down at the AI's projection.

Wash grit his teeth against a series of rapid stabs to his neck as Epsilon flickered. Fresh ice water filled Wash’s stomach in response to Wash’s aggravated hiss. This was not working, Wash fought against the fresh pain. Epsilon wavered in the air spastically, his tolerance for York and North curdling into defensive doubt.

_It’s against the rules_ , Epsilon reminded. 

“It’s ok this once,” Wash reminded.

“Even Delta is used to it,” York added.

“Theta doesn’t mind,” North finished soothingly. “You’ll see each other in training anyway.” 

_No._

“Just do-“

_No,_ Wash’s throat stuck to itself before Wash could finish the order.

Epsilon’s projection froze in place while Epsilon slunk to his corner. Sensing a surge, Wash tipped his head to escape the crackling pain at the back of his neck. Epsilon shivered, shrinking further and taking the needles of pain with him. Growling, Wash wet his throat to protest, but couldn’t bring a lecture to mind past Epsilon’s pure anxiety.

“Wash?” Carolina jostled Wash’s shoulders. “Hey, sit down before you keel over.”

_I’ll just meet them on the training floor. That’s allowed. That’s enough,_ Epsilon reasoned while Wash felt Carolina shake him.

“I think he’s broken,” Connie said, poking Wash in the chest through Epsilon’s projection. 

“Give him a second,” North shushed. “Wash, what’s up?”

“Delta, anything?” York mumbled. 

Wash forced himself to breathe past the crushing vice Epsilon was closing over his chest. Epsilon watched through Wash’s eyes as Delta appeared inches in front of his own projection. Delta paused in front of Epsilon with a jerk of his head before drifting up to Wash’s eye level.

“Agent Washington’s condition seems stable, but his breathing is irregular,” Delta reported dutifully. “Epsilon, report any malfunctions.”

_Don’t make me do this,_ Epsilon’s begging seared Wash’s neck.

Wash gulped down air as soon as Epsilon loosened the muscles in his chest, fading from in front of Wash and hunkered silently in his shelter. This was worse than his tantrum in front of the doctors, Wash wet his aching throat. Wash’s attempt at anger was lost in Epsilon’s haze of panic. 

“It’s…it’s ok,” Wash assured everyone, cupping his palm over the sizzling implant. “Can we do the AI play group later? Epsilon doesn’t want to break the rules so fast.”

The skin under his palm dropped from scorching while Wash talked. Epsilon was still small, but Wash felt a purposeful pulse in his omnitool as Epsilon prepared to project. Wash wiped his sweat drenched hands off on his pants and managed a smile to put his audience at ease. Grimacing at Wash, York nodded for Delta to disappear. Reappearing the instant Delta was gone, Epsilon rose to address York and North.

“Unlike Sigma, I do not need to communicate directly with the other AIs in social circumstances,” Epsilon explained from Wash’s shoulder. “I will adapt independently for the time being.”

North and York shared a look of surprise, making Epsilon disappear when York’s head tilted and North’s eyes darted back and forth as he got distracted by Theta’s reaction. Despite Wash’s familiarity with York and North’s mute conferences, Carolina, South, and Connie's stares kept Epsilon coiled nervously. This was still a test, Epsilon warned. And they were fucking it up. Hard.

“Um…I gotta pee. By myself,” Wash announced, quickly ducking away from Carolina’s hand hovering over his shoulder. “Be right back.”

“Are you sure you should be-“ Carolina sprang back as Wash shoved past.

"I need a second!" Wash called.

Wash dragged his hand along the wall to steady himself as he jogged down the familiar corridor. Tripping into the locker room, Wash bent over the sink, wishing there was anything left in his stomach to make good on the queasy twist. He had expected the headaches, and the crossed wires, and even some of Theta’s nervous energy or Delta and Gamma’s logical ramblings. He wasn’t prepared for Epsilon to come with a constant flight instinct that Wash generally reserved for being threatened at gunpoint. 

_I’m not trying to do that_ , Epsilon explained. _I just-_

“You _can’t_ do that,” Wash spat into the sink. “You can’t _do_ that, got it? You are renting space in here, you are not allowed to pause me.”

_I told you, I can’t-_

“No, you don’t tell me,” Wash snapped. “I tell you, and you run the math and make sure I kick ass in a fight. That’s as much say as you get.”

_I am_ ** _not_** _-_

“You are!” Wash shouted. “You are made to perform a function! So just do it, and stop being so pissy!”

_Pissy?_ Epsilon asked, fading to the back of Wash’s head. 

“Yeah,” Wash clutched the edge of the sink as his head swam. “I didn’t sign on for an AI with attitude.”

_Oh. Fuck, my bad,_ Epsilon snapped before Gamma’s voice droned out from behind the shield, _Would you prefer I use this setting?_

“Sur-“

_Or this, Agent Washington?_ Delta asked formally.

“May-“

_Is this ok?_ Theta asked timidly.

“Oh, shut-“

_Shut up_ , Sigma finished flatly. _Human slang…interesting. You prefer I stick to traditional AI responses?_

“If it works, yeah!” Wash just wanted to feel in control again.

Epsilon was silent. Wash stared down the drain in search of the triumph he had expected. Instead he felt cold and stiff, waiting for Epsilon to respond. The AI barely twitched against his mind, leaving Wash searching against the smooth black wall Epsilon used for protection. Wash turned on the water full blast, dumping freezing water on the back of his neck while Epsilon waited for his next command. 

“What are you doing?” Wash spoke to the mirror and knocked on the wall in his mind. 

_Shutting up,_ Epsilon informed.

"You're sulking?" Wash accused the hard silence.

_AI don't sulk. I don’t get a say, that's all._

Epsilon acknowledged the pecking order with blunt ferocity. Wash could still feel him, feeding Wash a continuous solitude from his cramped bunk. Behind that, Epsilon waited in a numb silence that made Wash’s skin prickle. Somehow, Wash preferred Epsilon’s snappish attempt at sarcasm to his painful attempt at submission. 

“You’re allowed to talk,” Wash said to keep Epsilon on his terms. “I just get to talk first. And make the final calls. You can’t flip out every time you don’t want to do something.”

_Setting some boundaries?_ Epsilon quoted York knowingly.

“Yeah. I get to do that,” Wash retorted. “I was here first. And it hurts when you throw a bitch fit.”

Epsilon accepted that without a fight and only a blip of annoyance for being corrected. Wash straightened up as Epsilon appeared on the lip of the sink. He was already better at that, shining clearly against the grungy sink.

“Fine,” Epsilon said. “I didn’t want to look at your ‘spank bank’ anyway. You run the body, I’ll stay…quieter. I’ll cooperate with the other AI in combat, duh. But don’t order me to break rules.”

“No one cares about the AI rule,” Wash rolled his eyes.

“Says the human,” Epsilon pointed out. “Delta didn’t need an AI orientation, neither do I.”

“Fine,” Wash dropped the argument rather than risk roasting his neck. “Are you going to give the other agents the silent treatment too? They’re gonna try and talk to you.”

“I’ll talk back,” Epsilon regained some curt energy. “ Anything else?”

Wash sighed in relief and exasperation over the question. There had to be more, but he was too sore to try and write a peace treaty over a bathroom sink. He could work with more quiet, some cooperation, and a little obedience.

“Stop with the…voice copying thing,” Wash didn’t like the sound of the other AI’s conflicting with Epsilon’s voice in his head.

“That’s kinda my thing,” Epsilon warned. “Like, it’s part of my combat programming.”

“Impressions?”

“Voice modulation,” Epsilon corrected. 

“We already have some of that.”

“I’m better,” Epsilon said confidently, adding in York’s gleeful voice, “It’s gonna confuse the fuck out of people.”

“Blugh,” Wash shook off Epsilon’s eery accuracy. “Is that all you can do?”

“No, I have an idea for a holographic decoy,” Epsilon assured. “But I don’t want you to pass out again.”

“Save it for combat,” Wash braced himself against the sink to be safe. “If we go back out, are you gonna freak?”

“Probably not,” Epsilon blinked out.

That was reassuring. Wash scrubbed his damp hand over his face to clear his head before venturing back to the others. Steeling himself for a circle of concerned looks and nagging questions, Wash shuffled through the hall. Wash wish he had stuck one of his knives in his pockets to keep his hands occupied. 

“How’d it go?”

Wash jumped along with Epsilon’s nervous spike, looking over his shoulder to find Tex strolling towards him. The question sounded more like idle curiosity than concern, but Tex flicked her eyes over Wash from head to toe as if expecting to find a missing limb. Leaning to see Wash’s fresh scar, Tex grunted approvingly.

“Nice. You might get laid with that thing,” Tex complimented. Stepping back and shoving her hands in her pockets, Tex asked, “So, does he have a name yet? She?”

“He,” Wash clarified. “This is Epsilon. Epsilon?”

_No thank you_ , Epsilon refused politely.

“Not the deal,” Wash ignored Tex’s cocked eyebrow. 

Epsilon considered trying to renegotiate until Wash’s patience died and his temper flared. Epsilon appeared on Wash’s shoulder, obediently spouting, “Hello, Agent Texas.”

Texas looked underwhelmed. Crossing her arms while she studied Epsilon, Texas replied simply, “Hi, Epsilon.”

“Hello…” Epsilon repeated uncertainly. 

“Can it say anything else?” Tex demanded with a jerk of her shoulders.

“Yes,” Epsilon replied before Wash could. “Would you like to know Agent Washington’s body temperature? Or the weather in Melbourne, Australia? I can read the dictionary. In any human language. And most Alien. My Prothean needs an update.”

“Don’t do that,” Wash ordered. “Sorry, he’s still trying to learn…humor.”

Tex’s eyes widened over Wash’s excuse. Epsilon stayed on Wash’s shoulder despite his instinct to disappear hammering in Wash’s ears. Epsilon flashed once when Tex exhaled sharply, surprising Wash when he reappeared an instant later. Tex’s habitual hard grimace folded at the corner, lifting into the shadow of a smirk.

“Keep working on it,” Tex advised. “Maybe you can give each other pointers as you go.”

_Ouch_ , Epsilon groused. _I think she just insulted you._

“Know what he does yet?” Tex asked casually.

“Something with holograms,” Wash issued an ultimatum against imitations to be safe.

“And voice modulation,” Epsilon reported in Wash’s voice.

Tex nodded vaguely, pushing her hair out of her face as she thought. Her customary straight face was back, erasing any trace of the brief glimpse Wash had gotten of amusement. Maybe she was finally starting to thaw to the rest of them. There was no one else to talk to in the Tin Can, she had to get bored eventually. She might be alright, past all of the standoffish scowls and proficiency for beating the crap out of anyone while they trained. She was even pretty, when she was distracted and forgot to look forbidding, Wash mused. Seeing Tex’s neck twist, Wash hurried to study the ceiling before Tex caught him looking.

_If she beats you up, I’m still in here_ , Epsilon warned when he felt Wash squirm. _It’ll be hard to ogle her with her fist up your nose._

“Shut up,” Wash mumbled to Epsilon and announced to Tex, “He’s trying to read the dictionary.”

“I was not,” Epsilon protested. “I was…advising we get back to the med bay. Humans rarely urinate-.”

“Thank you!!” Wash shouted. “I got it!!Shut up!”

Tex pursed her lips out, and for the first time, Wash realized he had seen that gesture before. Epsilon recalled the moments for him, watching as Tex pursed her lips when Wyoming swore at Gamma, South tripped face first into a pillar during paintball, and Connie primped in her uniform. 

_Oh_ , Epsilon realized. _I get it._

“You’re laughing at me,” Wash finished Epsilon’s discovery aloud.

“I’m laughing at you and your AI,” Tex corrected matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Wash decided that was the only safe response.

Tex looked as if she expected something more as she stretched the hems of her sleeves between her thumb and forefinger. When Wash elected to stay quiet and alive, Tex bit the inside of her lip as she ducked her head and tapped the to of her boot straight against the floor.

“Better get back to them, then,” Tex urged bluntly. “Don’t want them to think you’ve fallen in and squandered Epsilon this fast.”

“Right,” Wash was only too happy to retreat to the other agents. “I should do that. Now. Bye.”

Wash dragged Epsilon around the corner before the AI had a chance to butcher a farewell. Epsilon kept his eyes on Tex until she ducked into the locker room, reappearing in front of Wash’s nose as he walked.

“She seems nice, under everything,” Epsilon decided. “Like the face that says ‘fuck off,’ and the killer body.”

“What the-“

“As in, I scanned her for weapons, and she’s got enough knives on her to stab every orifice you have, with a couple to spare.”

“Just stay out of her way,” Wash advised. “It’s worked for the rest of us.”

Epsilon dipped in the air obediently and added Tex’s name after Maine and on the list of people to avoid in this place. Wash had enough problems without trying to delve into whatever Tex’s twisted issues had brought her here. Epsilon cut off an analysis of Tex’s behavior in an attempt to delve for Wash, contenting himself to the hypothesis, _Possible case of bitch._

Wash traced the outline of his new scar and let Epsilon gloat quietly for beating him to the punch. Epsilon stayed perched on Wash’s shoulder as Carolina and North rounded the corner from the med bay, trailing York and the others in a disorderly mob. North sighed heavily at the sight of Wash, his worried glower softening when he noticed Epsilon. Carolina ignored the AI, barking, “Get your ass back to the med bay.”

“Support and sympathy, support and sympathy,” York mumbled behind Carolina’s back.

“I am being supportive,” Carolina informed, hooking her hand in Wash’s arm. “I’m supporting him so he doesn’t brain himself on the floor.”

“I’m fine,” Wash swatted Carolina off to keep Epsilon’s nerves at a low buzz. “We just had to…work on the basics.”

“Like talking?” South griped with a peevish sneer at Epsilon.

“Agent Washington was letting me practice conversation,” Epsilon explained for Wash to distract himself from South’s glare. “Focussing on so many people at once was…”

“Weird,” Wash concluded. “We’re working on it.”

Carolina tugged Wash’s arm to make him stand upright, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of Wash’s drying sweat. Connie kicked South in the shin as soon as South’s mouth opened, grumbling, “Let it go,” while knitting her brow at Wash in sympathy. Well, he would take sympathy over more heckling if had too, Wash begrudgingly admitted to Epsilon. Epsilon quietly accepted North watching him as he approached Wash, readopting his tolerance for North when the human smiled at him before giving Wash a grin.

“You don’t look like you’re going to hurl as much,” North complimented wryly. “Think you can handle some juice and toast?”

“I dunno,” Wash’s stomach was still recovering from its repeated migrations.

“It’ll help, trust me,” York urged, adding to Epsilon, “What’ya say, Epsilon? North and I can store D and Theta, if that’ll help.”

“Theta promises to stay in,” North compromised.

Epsilon debated the offer, concluding that there were more cons than pros in the arrangement, but leaving it to Wash to answer. Wash wasn’t going to make the others store their AI just to visit the dining hall, Wash warned.

_Fine. But only ‘cause they’re not gonna leave and your mouth tastes like trash._

“Yeah,” Wash answered for Epsilon. “I could go for some food.”

“Good,” Carolina kept a hand on Wash’s shoulder and turned him for the dining hall. “You had me scared for a second. We have some bacon we need to use up.” 

“Bluuuugh,” Wash wasn’t ready to commit to feeling that good yet.

“Agent Washington’s not sure that will stay in,” Epsilon volunteered. “But his blood sugar is low and he is dehydrated.”

_What? Agent York asked me too_ , Epsilon reasoned when Wash tried to silence him. 

Wash licked the inside of his mouth unhappily at the idea of eating. His neck throbbed softly and his temples were thrumming while his stomach decided to burn and ache instead of lurching and sloshing. Epsilon’s anxiety lurked in the back of their shared thoughts, leaving Wash clammy and flexing his knuckles to keep his hands steady. He didn’t feel like eating and listening to the others coddle him or criticize him. He wanted to crawl back into his bunk and get some peace and quiet. 

_We could do that, too_ , Epsilon agreed. _And raid the kitchen later._

“I’ll put the bacon on the toast,” Wash decided, glad for Carolina pushing him down the hall. “And some vodka with the juice.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carolina encouraged to looks of horror from York and North. “We can give Epsilon a basic tour on the way.”

_Goody,_ Epsilon ran through the base in Wash’s head. _More tutorials._

“Maybe just beer and bacon,” Wash decided spitefully. 

“Or water,” North advised weakly while York spasmed from Delta’s disapproval.

“If I’m gonna feel hungover, might as well get a bit of a buzz.”

_Flawless logic,_ Epsilon kept his dubious warning short.

“There, he’s eating like a garbage disposal, he’s fine,” Connie shoved her way past York and North to hip check Wash lightly. 

“No worse than normal, anyway,” South’s snark was softer under North and Carolina’s supervision.

Carolina released Wash’s arm as he started walking, limiting herself to hovering by Wash’s shoulder as he proved that he could walk straight. Maybe breakfast was what he needed to stop the gnawing in his stomach and heavy weight clogging his head. He massaged his neck in relief when Epsilon vanished from his shoulder, resting in the space Wash didn’t remember having in his head that morning.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” North asked over Wash’s shoulder. “It’s normal to be a little freaked. Epsilon too.” 

Epsilon squirmed against North’s question and Wash tucked his hands in his pockets when the tremor worked through his own muscles. Freaked wasn’t the word he would use to describe waking up to Epsilon. Epsilon rejected the word forcefully, raising the wall he and Wash shared at the feel of the clinic’s lights burning against Wash’s eyes and skin. 

But now they had ground rules, Wash reminded Epsilon. They were working on it. There wasn’t much else they could do, right?

“Yeah. It’s weird, but I’m ok,” Wash assured North on one side and York on Carolina’s other side.

_Totally fine_ , Epsilon seconded with a habitual scan to be safe.  _Stop asking._

Good, Wash massaged his neck. Three things in common.


	24. Chapter 24

Garrus loved landing on _Omega_. Granted, he hated most of the things found on _Omega:_ Aria’s hold that seeped through the station like a symbiotic virus, the criminals committing their crimes in broad daylight and the shadowy recesses, the drugs coursing through everyone, the squalor the rest of the station was subjected to, and the slime that seemed to coat everything. But the hunt was straight forward here. There was no waiting for bureaucracy; if you saw a criminal, you shot them before they shot you, and called it good work. Watching a vorcha scuttle through a puddle of something putrid, Garrus sighed contentedly, seconded by Grunt’s satisfied growl.

“How can you…actually, I don’t want to know,” Kaidan picked his way around trash. “No one should _want_ to be here.”

“Want is a very strong word,” Kasumi soothed Kaidan. “Some unpleasant things are part of the job. You get used to them.”

“I know, but…” Kaidan looked at the floor around him in abject disgust.

“I know what you mean,” Liara smoothed her jacket in agreement.

Taking stock of the crew around him, Garrus wished that he had kept this expedition small. Elliot had gladly sent Garrus a list of arms dealers with impressive reputations, and Garrus had to respect the man’s prompt resourcefulness. Alongside the pictures, the list would help keep Shepard and the rest of the crew busy and verified a few names Garrus had considered. But Garrus trusted his personal connections and Kasumi’s knowledge of the station more than a list made up of old intel from an, admittedly skilled, human officer.

“We should split up to cover more ground,” Garrus suggested lightly to Shepard, counting four people lining up to mug Kaidan and Joker as soon as they moved. “I work better without a police escort.”

Shepard scowled in preemptive disapproval. That was one more reason to send Shepard after the list and pictures; keeping a low profile for getting close to criminals and making them talk was hard with Shepard close by. 

“Loosen up,” Jack punched Kaidan in the small of the back hard enough to make Kaidan cough. “And stay out of my way.”

Kaidan mumbled, “I’m trying,” and Shepard cleared her throat sternly, limiting Jack to a cold pout. Struggling not to sigh, Shepard turned away to speak with Liara about places to start asking after the tattooed man and the clumsily mysterious ‘Daniel.” Kaidan groaned between his teeth as Jack elbowed her way past and found his kidney with deadly accuracy as soon as Shepard’s back was turned.

“Jack,” Shepard reprimanded without looking.

Jack concentrated on framing her chest tattoos lovingly in response to Shepard’s lazy warning. Raising an eyebrow that said Kaidan wasn’t worth it, Jack passed the look over Garrus and Mordin on her way to watch the crowds around them.

“Still mad at you?” Garrus asked in sympathetic guilt for avoiding most of Jack’s wrath.

“What was your first clue?” Kaidan arched his back gingerly. 

“I’m sure she appreciates it,” Tali comforted while watching Jack carefully. “Very, _very_ deep down.”

“And I’m sure this will only last for a few…years,” Garrus reassessed realistically while patting Kaidan on the shoulder. “Give or take a couple months.”

“Garrus?” Shepard interrupted. “This is your turf, what’s the plan?”

Garrus surveyed his forces. It was always handy to have a krogan for weight when you decided to prowl the underbelly of _Omega_. Kasumi would be a good guide for the changes Garrus had missed in the last several years.Shepard and Liara would have to go elsewhere to spare Garrus the weight of Shepard’s reputation and Liara’s attempt to have some sense of anonymity. Tali would stick out in the seedier districts, and distract Garrus from the task at hand. But the three of them could have success in the residential blocks, where Shepard’s reputation, Liara’s soothing tone, and Tali’s kindly earnestness could pry information out of otherwise reluctant civilians. 

Garrus trusted James to handle himself in the clubs and shops, but didn’t trust the young man’s mouth to be safe in a delicate situation. It was a shame Feron was still chasing down his own sources and wouldn’t risk being seen with them. Garrus would be happy to have the drell at his side or in charge of another squad. Mordin could undoubtedly take care of himself and be sent to survey the station’s clinics with very little quarrel.

Containing a disappointed groan, Garrus considered the dead weight comprised of Kaidan, Cortez, and Joker. Kaidan wreaked of too much disapproval to blend in as Garrus’ back up and he was reserved enough to discourage already uncomfortable residents if he went with Shepard. Cortez could prove a sympathetic ear. But Cortez lacked experience in balancing sympathy with intimidation; coddle a person too much and they took advantage of you. Joker’s attitude would be a problem wherever he went, but there was slightly less chance that he would suffer a fatal break if he was kept away from the gangs. Worse, they were all Alliance employees. Garrus needed somewhere to put them for safekeeping. On _Omega_. 

“Jack,” Garrus decided to stall until he thought of something. “Time to test that new implant?”

Jack smirked knowingly, “You trying to kiss my ass?”

“If you don’t want to…” Garrus said coyly.

“Ugh, I _love_ seeing you beg for it,” Jack laughed, licking her lips in anticipation. 

“Don’t kill anyone,” Shepard reminded Garrus. “And don’t try to _break_ the new implant.” 

“We’re not going to kill them. We need them alive to talk,” Garrus reassured. “Jack is just…compelling incentive.”

“Uh-huh,” Shepard wasn’t buying it.

“Grunt? I need a krogan in this place,” Garrus offered next.

“Funny how turians always say that, until they don’t,” Grunt noted with less malice than he might to another turian. Garrus nodded, feeling Shepard cringe when Grunt laughed, “Can we still kill vorcha?”

Garrus shook his head at Grunt while Shepard was watching. He would control Grunt if he had too, but if a handful of criminals were stupid enough to get in Grunt’s way, Garrus wasn’t going to regret letting Grunt take care of them. Glad to see Kasumi already pacing around him, Garrus turned to the question of tactically reassigning everyone else.

“Shepard- you, Liara, and Tali head to the housing districts,” Garrus gestured in the direction. “See if you can charm some of the locals into recognizing the names we got and the pictures.”

“Leaving you unsupervised?” Tali noted all too knowingly.

“With Jack, Grunt, and Kasumi.”

“That’s what I said,” Tali retorted. Mumbling in affectionate tolerance, Tali reminded Shepard, “You do have a way of scaring criminals off. The smart ones, anyway.”

“Which is presumably the type we’re looking for,” Liara added.

“Fine, fine,” Shepard admitted defeat. “I should go see Aria first, let her know we’re asking around with _great respect.”_

“Plan to visit clinics,” Mordin announced before Garrus had to. “Will ask staff about possible work in cybernetics, of course.”

“Good, they’ll talk to you,” Garrus jumped on the excuse, beckoning to James, Cortez, Joker, and Kaidan. “Jam-, er, Alenko, you four can start at _Afterlife_. See what you can get from the staff and overhear from the patrons.”

James twitched an eyebrow doubtfully at the order and Kaidan clicked his tongue in frustration. Garrus had admittedly thought up better distractions in his time. He could feel Joker’s doubt even before the pilot snapped, “You’re sending us clubbing?”

“Someone should cover the bar,” Garrus reasoned, circling to avoid Kaidan and James’ injured prides.

“I _lived_ here,” Vega reminded strongly. “I can handle some dirty work.”

“And I know how to handle a gun, or question people,” Kaidan added defensively as he let Joker fume next to him. “Simultaneously, if I have to.”

“On the Citadel and human colonies,” Garrus cautioned. “But people around here don’t want to chat with the Alliance. And you don’t have any other leverage.”

Garrus shifted his weight apologetically at the insulted look on Kaidan’s face and James’ offended glare, but he left his justification to the point. Garrus wasn’t going to apologize for being the bearer of bad news.

“At least let me go with Mordin to the clinics,” James begged. “I can knock something out of the thugs around there, I’ve done it.”

“You can knock something out of some thugs around here,” Garrus nodded to _Afterlife_ while Mordin hastened to escape in the milling crowds. 

“Come _on_ , I can-“

“I put men where I need them,” Garrus commanded.

Garrus saw James jump and look to Shepard in an appeal. It was gratifying that Shepard ignored him to talk with Tali and Liara. James wilted in resignation, jerking his head towards _Afterlife_ and mumbling, “Let’s see if we can get something from the bartender.”

“I’m short on bone mass, not brains,” Joker growled angrily.“I know when I’m being put in daycare.”

“You don’t even like fighting,” Cortez reminded judiciously from his own injured silence.

“Yeah, well, it’s not fun sitting in the ship all day either,” Joker snapped. “Knowing this place, the liquor’ll kill us anyway.”

“Hey, then at least you can enjoy the dancers if we can’t drink,” Cortez pointed out wearily when comforting Joker didn’t work. “Monogendered or not, boobs are boobs that I’m not into.”

“Aria’s an asari with diverse clientele,” Kaidan pointed out more optimistically and nodded Cortez to a man walking by in snug leather pants and the last essence of a shirt. “ _Afterlife_ isn’t my first choice, but she makes sure there is something…er, barely dressed for everyone.”

“A little window shopping?” Shepard teased Kaidan.

“If I have to miss the action, I can appreciate some nice scenery while I’m at it,” Kaidan muttered bitterly, demonstrating the practice over one shoulder while pinching Shepard’s hip with the opposite hand. 

“There, a bright side. And I’ll talk to Aria about poison-free booze,” Shepard laughed and tried to bolster the sulking group. Jumping away from Kaidan's second pinch, Shepard left the four to their softer grumblings and hurried to neutralize Aria.

“This still sucks,” James warned Garrus as he left.

“Keep an eye out,” Garrus ordered James more softly. “We don’t need another trip to a hospital.”

James hissed confirmation before he stalked off to shoo Joker away from mimicking a posturing thug. Garrus couldn’t concern himself with the sour expressions on the group’s faces. A few shots and a light bar tussle on James’ part would have to satisfy them. The rest of the crew was itching to work again; Liara and Tali were pacing for Shepard’s return, and if Garrus didn’t set Jack and Grunt loose soon, they’d be off without his permission.

“Good luck,” Garrus bid Tali and Liara. “Make sure to stay in contact, in case one of us gets something or gets into trouble.”

“Be careful,” Tali instructed, snagging Garrus’ elbow before he could escape. “I’m more worried for the criminals, but don’t get involved in another war zone.”

“I’ll try sweet talking the gangs into talking,” Garrus assured innocently. “I think some of your diplomacy has rubbed off on me by now.”

“You don’t have to be _that_ diplomatic,” Tali looked around _Omega_ in distaste. “Just remember-we’re here for information. Not to try and clear the streets.”

“Not today,” Garrus promised. Tapping his head against the top of Tali’s mask, Garrus bargained, “You can check my armor for bullet holes later to make sure.”

“Don’t make me do that,” Tali instructed. “And don’t make it sound so…fun.”

Garrus sealed the deal with a light head-butt. Checking his weapons, Garrus motioned Kasumi forward and invited, “Lead the way.”

Kasumi danced away with Grunt bowling a clear path after her. Jack stretched contentedly as she walked. Apart from a patch of new skin peaking out from under her ponytail and her venomous grudges there was nothing to show that Jack had been bedridden a few days before. She deserved some fun.

“Who are you looking for?” Kasumi asked, slipping back into Grunt’s shadow to talk to Garrus. 

“I have a few criminals we can squeeze,” Garrus thought aloud, weighing the odds of which of his old contacts would still be on _Omega_ and alive. “There’s a salarian dealer, Onak, used to do impressive work.”

“Onak got killed,” Kasumi reported. “The Talons found out he provided weapons to the Blue Suns to hit their district. The Talons got the guns.”

“I’d congratulate them, damn them,” Garrus sighed. Onak had always put more emphasis on profit than common sense, and it had finally caught up with him before Garrus could. 

“Naxov and Lucanis?” Garrus asked. The elcor and turian had been an odd pair, but they had proven effective by combining bulk with brains to carve out a sustainable niche. 

“I don’t know a Lucanis,” Kasumi frowned. “There was a Naxov, but she left for an elcor settlement four months ago.”

“Darza?”

“Dead from a varren bite.”

Garrus shrugged off the dead quarian and the sound of Jack chuckling at him. Things had changed more than he wanted to admit in his absence from _Omega_.

“Aria had to be the only constant,” Garrus glanced at the list Elliot had sent him where Jack and Grunt couldn’t see. “How about…Yaron?”

“Um…there’s a salarian with that name,” Kasumi nodded, her face brightening in recognition. “He doesn’t make deals often, but he had a really nice collection of antique arms in his apartment.”

“Where are they now?” Jack asked.

“I left some of them, the others I’m not sure,” Kasumi shrugged carelessly. “They still worked, so I got a _great_ price for them.”

“Figures,” Grunt growled. “Did you sell them to someone we have to kill?”

“Not intentionally, but it depends. Yaron usually sets up in the Kenzo District,” Kasumi continued. “Do you really think he’ll give us something? He’s more of a drug dealer who trades collections on the side.”

“We have to start somewhere,” Garrus decided and ignored Jack’s second snicker,

Following his feet and Kasumi’s instincts through the dirt encrusted corridors, Garrus hated the feeling that he was losing his touch. Four years ago he could have pinpointed the location of every boss, underling, and crony in the station. The filth was the same, the dilapidated buildings were still standing in rusted defiance, the streets were still crammed, but Garrus didn’t feel as if he knew every escape route and everyone he might need to escape from.

“The krogan here are pathetic,” Grunt observed with a blend of scorn and disappointment. “If they were worth anything they’d be competing for females.”

“What about you?” Jack asked. “You were a pain in the ass when your quad dropped, are you making it count?”

“I’ve already claimed females for this season,” Grunt rumbled. “Wrex and Eve say have to we increase our numbers slowly, before the clans start to fight for resources. Tuchanka is still a pile of rubble.”

“This is what you’re like _after_ you’re laid?” Jack gaped. “Fuck, even Garrus and Kaidan swagger a little so we know it happened.”

“We’re krogan,” Grunt said by way of explanation. “We fight to prove we deserve to survive. Over females, over resources; it keeps us strong.”

“Are baby krogan cute?” Kasumi asked with a soft coo.

“I wouldn’t know,” Grunt shrugged. “The females keep them until they prove they can survive, I don’t need to see them.”

Jack rolled her eyes at Grunt’s proud declaration. Garrus spared a moment to be glad that Wrex listened to Eve and the pair were more mathematically minded and diplomatic than the rest of their species. Krogan females were starting to be “effectively fertile” and males “extremely virile” according to Mordin’s data, and Tuchanka was in danger of being overrun with pre-pubescents and adolescents vying for space before Wrex could bargain for new stable planets. The galaxy was taking a serious gamble that Wrex and Eve would live and stay in power long enough to instill restraint on most of their species. 

Garrus stopped debating interspecies politics when he felt the shift in the markets around him. They were low in the stations levels, following Kasumi as she wound her way through stairs and side passages until the main crowd had thinned. Grunt snorted wetly a level before the stench of confined varren hit Garrus’ nose. Despite the odor the streets were cleaner without debris from the clubs and common shops to cover the ground. Lean turians and salarians skulked through the shadows, mingling with lumbering krogan and slinking vorcha next to the sparse human and quarian numbers. The merchandise, whatever it was, wasn’t visible; most of the valuables were kept somewhere only the dealers knew and would find their way into a buyer’s hands once a pleasing price had been agreed upon. Under the veneer of calm conversations, Garrus could feel the tension of distrust and calculation. An adult krogan lunged at Grunt from the corner, earning Grunt’s savage snarl and pantomimed strike of his head.

“Go wrestle a pyjack,” Grunt urged the smaller male, causing other figures to shrink back as he walked past. 

Garrus craned his head over the clumps of targets drifting away from Grunt’s threat. Asking for anyone by name would only work once or twice before someone got defensive. Dealers on the fringes were already getting suspicious when they saw Jack copying Grunt’s challenging stare next to Kasumi’s easy stroll into their midst.

“There’s Yaron,” Kasumi whispered to Garrus, indicating a slight salarian blending into the grey shadows.

Garrus made a mental note of the plain looking salarian before scanning for something more promising. He wasn’t looking for a dealer who liked to feel important; he was looking for someone who had skills and an eye for good intel. Glancing at Elliot’s list again, Garrus crossed off one arms dealer he had shot personally and another asari he knew Liara had had to “contain” after they had threatened one of Liara’s sources on Illium. Intelligence officers were only effective if they could keep track of their sources, and the Alliance had clearly clipped Elliot’s wings to save themselves money in peacetime. It was a pity, Garrus thought as he re-read the list of dealers spanning across Council space and the Terminus Systems; Elliot and his squad were more capable and cooperative than most partnerships they got pulled into. Swallowing his pride, Garrus beckoned Jack and Grunt back from eyeing an exchange to approach the salarian. Kasumi disappeared without a sound, brushing Garrus’ elbow as she left his side.

“Yaron?” Garrus dropped his voice. 

“What, what?” the salarian snapped defensively. Garrus could feel the salarian looking the group over suspiciously, pacing out of his corner to avoid a potential mobbing. Someone with real value would have a body guard. Unless Yaron was depending on the good will of his customers to save him. Garrus was getting less impressed by the minute.

“I hear you have a collection that puts gun shops to shame,” Garrus prompted. “And I’m looking for a discerning eye for craftsmanship.”

Yaron stopped fidgeting away from Garrus with a glint of interest. Scanning his surroundings, Garrus slowly pulled the precious pistol from its holster. Yaron’s own gun was drawn before Garrus’ hand reached his waist, and it was Kasumi’s presence and Jack’s blue tinge that kept Garrus from blowing the naive salarian’s guts through his spine. Lowering his weapon slowly when Garrus kept the pistol flat, Yaron’s wide eyes vibrated feverishly as he inspected all of the modifications he could in the brief glimpse Garrus gave him.

“Nice, right?” Jack asked smugly.

“Impressive,” Yaron nodded. “That’s a lot of high grade parts for a single pistol. Where is it from?”

“I was hoping you could give an expert opinion,” Garrus lied through his teeth.

“If I could inspect more closely-“ Yaron’s thin fingers stroked the air above the pistol.

“I’m not that hopeful,” Garrus warned, retracting the gun out of range and sight.

Yaron nibbled his lips unhappily and folded his hands in a show of compliance. This was a dead end. Yaron was salivating out of ignited fascination, not a sense of recognition, and he was making rookie mistakes. Kasumi had been right; Yaron was a drug pusher who liked to surround himself with impressive toys and a reputation, but little more.

“If you are looking for an exchange…” Yaron rocked hopefully in thought. “I have an excellently maintained rifle from the war, or perhaps you’d appreciate a more medicinal form of compensation…”

Garrus stopped listening to watch the crowds around him. Grunt was wandering off in boredom and putting a trio of krogan on alert. Jack was showcasing her abilities with a preemptive barrier that was drawing unwise glowers from a group of turians and a curious asari. Across the room, Garrus caught a man watching him from behind matted brown hair before drifting around the corner of a stack of crates. Garrus holstered the pistol gleefully. He recognized that greying mop, even if Todd had tried to add a thinning mustache. Just finished a delivery from the docks, no doubt.

“Forget it,” Garrus cut off the floundering deal curtly. “I need a good gun more than I need a mantel ornament.”

Yaron was still stuttering out a bargain while Garrus walked away. Strolling casually through the clusters of criminals, Garrus motioned Grunt and Jack to stay back as he approached his former informant’s improvised shelter. 

“Who’s pocket are you-“

Garrus shouted in annoyance as Todd’s fist glanced off his cheek and the man pushed his way past. Everyone in the room tensed to attention, some drawing their guns while others got a head start in fleeing for the exit. Yaron chose the latter.

“That one!” Todd pointed as he fled. “That turian, _that_ turian is fuck-“

“Jack, a distraction,” Garrus stood innocently still before he gave everyone an obvious target.

Todd’s ravings about Archangel were mercifully lost in the crashing of crates against bodies as Jack flung every crate in the room out towards the walls. Garrus broke into a run before anyone had a chance to level their gun, wincing as he felt the crunch of Grunt running over someone in pursuit. Todd sprinted down the narrow passage, careening around the nearest corner and catching himself to keep crawling forward when he slipped. Grunt smashed into the nearest criminal leveling a gun at Garrus, reducing the stunned turian into a crumpled heap. Other criminals jumped out of Garrus' way, pinning themselves helpfully to the walls as Grunt neared them.

“ _Fuck_ yes!” Jack crowed, stacking a wall of crates to barricade their exit while she ran. 

“Kasumi?” Garrus asked as he chased after Todd. 

“On him,” Kasumi assured in Garrus’ ear. “Nice trick, Jack.”

“Bitch, that is _skill_ ,” Jack panted and kicked the feebly groaning turian on her way by.

Garrus pulled his pistol, rounding the corner to see Todd disappearing at the opposite end of the corridor. He was heading to more public ground, where the announcement that Archangel was back in their midst would attract more attention than even Jack could disrupt. Growling in frustration, Garrus shoved his gun away. He hadn’t expected Todd to run. Todd was a bottom feeder, a dockworker who sold what he heard and saw. Garrus had managed to get a good deal with him, too; Todd would be his informant, and Garrus would overlook Todd’s ill conceived attempt to rob him. Garrus was going to have to seriously reconsider his charity.

“Got him,” Kasumi sighed happily. “Just act natural.”

Garrus slowed to a walk around the next turn, walking past a searching party of krogan as if he was casually browsing the machine shop across the way. Jack split away from him naturally to drift at the edge of a gossiping group of humans while Grunt lumbered confidently on his own. Garrus could see Todd several alcoves down, calmly meandering through the crowd with mysterious space at his back. Todd shuffled back towards the downward staircase to leave the crowds, trailing Garrus, Jack, and Grunt after him.

Following at a safe distance until the commotion had faded behind him, Garrus trotted to catch Todd, pushing the trembling man against the wall and keeping him pinned with an arm on his throat. Kasumi reappeared beside Garrus, still tucking her gun away from keeping Todd in place.

“You payin’ ghosts now?” Todd choked indignantly against Garrus' forearm, his muscles shaking and pupils wide in a mix of fear and an overindulgence in Hallex.

“Thank you,” Kasumi mimed a curtsy daintily.

“You were stupid to run,” Garrus grunted and slammed Todd flat when the man struggled. “Stupider to try and raise the alarm.”

“You were going to get me killed,” Todd accused. “Folks can tell you turians apart better than you’d think, better I catch you than they catch us both.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep making a scene.”

Garrus had meant to remind Todd that people were eager to kill Archangel’s eyes and ears only a sliver less than killing Archangel directly, but Todd’s widening eyes fixed on Garrus in terror. Garrus exhaled slowly in the guise of impatience. Archangel wasn’t entirely gone, no matter what the people of _Omega_ or the _Normandy_ thought.

“All I want is some information on traffic at the docks,” Garrus soothed. Garrus eased his arm off of Todd’s throat while Grunt and Jack flanked him. Todd glanced at Kasumi nervously, visibly taken aback by Kasumi’s cheerful smile before she disappeared and left a hand on Garrus arm reassuringly. Giving Todd room to twitch, Garrus continued, “I’m looking for a new group of mercenaries. Well outfitted, good weapons, impressive tech, all human. They were making deals with the Blood Pack a couples months ago. Aria doesn’t have any record of their ship.”

Todd jumped more emphatically over the statement. Garrus would probably pay for that if the claim ever got back to Aria, but Garrus doubted Todd was that stupid. 

“You know how many ‘new humans’ have swamped this place in the last three years?” Todd was annoyed enough to risk sounding scornful. “Half of them are gangsters and mercs on smuggling ships.”

“Show this idiot the pictures,” Grunt demanded impatiently.

Todd stopped circling for an exit at the relatively benign proposition. Todd backed away from the looming krogan towards Garrus, wrinkling his forehead at the pictures from Garrus’ omnitool. Shaking his head at the redhead, Todd flicked his finger for Garrus to move on. Nothing for “Daniel” or the mustachioed man. Pausing on the blonde woman, Todd poked his tongue in his cheek in thought, but ultimately shook his head. Todd held up a finger at the sight of the final man before running his finger through the tattoo at the man’s ravaged throat.

“I’ve seen this guy,” Todd nodded his head side to side. “Maybe.”

“He carries a blade?” Garrus offered, trying to keep his hopes dim when Todd jerked in recognition.

“ _That_ bastard. He was with the Blue Suns until a few months back, used to guard the shipments and shake down people they didn’t like…Ray, Rhys, or something. You stayed out of his way, ‘cause he carried a _fucking sword_ , used to scare the piss out of us when he came through the docks.”

“It’s part gun, too,” Grunt informed helpfully.

“Christ,” Todd shook his shoulders out in a mock shiver. “Is he your new project?”

“Part of it,” Garrus evaded. 

“Right. The mysterious Archangel, taking down the syndicates,” Todd chuckled softly. “The Batman no one on _Omega_ asked for.”

“Nothing on the other ones?” Jack snapped over Kasumi’s small laugh and Garrus' and Grunt’s shared confusion.

Todd flicked through the photos again, dismissing them as quickly as before with a resigned shrug.Pulling the pistol out, Garrus asked less threateningly, “Then have you ever seen this type of work? On the gangs around here, or coming in for trade? The blonde had it.”

Todd eyed Garrus, grunting at the gun and deciding, “You can buy a gun on any corner in this place.And you want me to go all C-Sec on some random mercenary’s gun and give you a name? Pull the other one.”

“It’s made of high grade parts,” Garrus pressed. “And it’s an older model, but damn well maintained, with parts from more than one manufacturer. It’s not something someone would casually sell for quick credits. I didn’t get anything from C-Sec or the vendors in the lower markets, and Li-my sources on Noveria called it an antique. Give me something.”

Garrus contained a flinch at the sound of his request turning into a threat. Todd tugged at his hair, looking carefully between Garrus, Grunt, Jack, and the empty space he mistakenly thought Kasumi occupied before taking the gun. Todd’s callused and crooked fingers spoke to hard labor, but he had been one of the human pioneers on _Omega_ , and years moving goods had given him perspective on what was quality and where one could get it. Tracing the distinctive purple streak down the barrel, Todd turned the gun over and raised his eyebrows. Weighing the gun with one hand, Todd dug a cigarette from his breast pocket to twist through his fingers. 

“Yeah, they didn’t just pick this up on the street, you can’t even find this model here. And this purple shit is theirs, no one sells their guns pre-painted.”

“So they’ve had it awhile?” Garrus sprang.

Todd nodded and smirked at Garrus’ sharp tone, reaching to Jack in expectation of a light and settling for wiggling the cigarette between his fingers. Tossing the gun in his grip, Todd handed it back to Garrus without resistance. Garrus let himself relax a fraction now that Todd was abiding to the old patterns.

“Maybe it’s a heirloom, but they still know what they’re doing. Those mods are new, but that type of pistol hasn’t been sold, even on Omega, for almost twenty years. You have to know what you’re doing to keep a gun working that long _and_ work with newer stuff. Smart, the newer guns can hold more ammo, but they overheat like a son of a bitch. With a heat sink and enough ammo, that baby’ll fire for days and last past the new junk,” Todd nodded in respect at the gun.

“Any idea where it came from?” 

Taking the gun back and looking it over, Todd sucked his teeth in thought. 

“My guess, you’re looking for someone from _Omega_ , maybe Illium,” Todd thought aloud slowly. “That’s turian made, and you turians wouldn’t openly sell to humans in the old days. Wouldn’t look good, after the war. But turian manufacturers found ways to sell to humans without risking the higher ups feel like they were losing face to us apes. Tweaked a few things, for the asari market, of course, and plenty of it found its way to human dealers under the table. Sure, aliens weren’t selling to humans on the street, but everyone was getting what they wanted; better guns for us, new pool of credits for them. And most of that came here: if aliens saw a human with a turian model on the Citadel, it might be awkward. Aliens saw a human with a turian model here, they just wondered if they had to outdraw you. We’re progressive like that.”

“Any names?” 

“Yeah, let me check my address book,” Todd groaned in martyrdom and closing his eyes for answers. “You might look into slavers. A lot of dealers got themselves into the good graces of aliens around here by transporting slaves or drugs for them on the side. It weeded out the idiots from the streets, which all the aliens liked, and the Alliance was less likely to search human vessels for human slaves, so it got batarians around here to let them live long enough to set up shop.”

“And you just happened to notice that?” Garrus growled.

“I noticed when a cargo ship left a crate of parts and picked up 40 people, or vice versa,” Todd shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Complain to my batarian supervisor?”

Garrus resisted the urge to punch Todd. If Garrus had money to bet, he would bet most of it on the fact that Todd was talking out of his ass, spewing whatever old stories he had in the hopes of getting Garrus off of his back. This was the black market link Garrus had been groping for and hinting Todd into, but the blonde woman wasn’t old enough to be one of Todd’s old associates. Maybe Maine was the man behind the armory, but that didn’t give them more information than they had, which didn't make Garrus feel better. More likely the gun had been passed through a series of mercenaries until someone had taken a liking to it.

“Anything else for me?” Garrus accepted that he had wrung Todd dry and then some.

“I’ll keep an ear out, but that’s the best I have. Or, you could stop hunting mercs?” Todd suggested almost amicably. “It’s like trying to drain the ocean with a spoon.”

“Noted,” Garrus stepped aside to let Todd run. “I trust this’ll be kept between us?”

“With your new posse here?” Todd smirked shortly before hunching respectfully at Jack’s glow. “I know the deal. I’ll get too many questions if I run my mouth now. We’re square?”

“For now,” Garrus saw Todd’s face fall at the idea of seeing Garrus again.

Todd’s nose whistled morosely with his sigh as he slunk away. Garrus chuckled at Todd flapping his arms and waving behind his back nervously. Kasumi reappeared with a grin, calling, “It’s ok! We don’t need you anymore!”

Todd whirled sharply, backing away when Kasumi wiggled her fingers to send him on his way. Jack cracked her knuckles in front of her, making Todd leave faster until he had ducked into a mechanics shop. Garrus should have punched him. But they had a name: Ray of the Blue Suns. It was a start anyway.

Garrus took his time getting back to _Afterlife_ , keeping an eye out for other sources while Grunt browsed gun shops and Jack tried to trap an invisible Kasumi in a biotic field. Whatever subtlety Garrus had had was ruined by Todd's display, and Garrus could see vendors and customers alike when they noticed the group. So they had Ray the Blue Sun, a mercenary career man from the sound of it. That was probably true of all of them, but Ray, or Maine as they now called him, was clearly the muscle with Carolina. York was the brains, if Garrus was forced to call him that, and Daniel had his hand in smuggling somewhere, which left them with a pair of sharp shooters and some extra guns to be safe. Garrus hated the begrudging respect he was starting to feel for their diverse skills.

“Any luck?” Tali looked frustrated when Garrus finally met her, Shepard, Liara, and Mordin on the steps of _Afterlife._

“Some. None for you?” Garrus offered Tali his shoulder to lean on.

“If people opened their doors, they didn’t want to talk,” Liara complained. “I saw them recognize at least one of the pictures, but they wouldn’t give us a name.”

“Some talk of cybernetics,” Mordin offered more optimistically while frowning. “Nothing certain. Great demand, severely limited supply. Will compile inventory for further inspection.” 

“The bald one is a mercenary, like we thought,” Shepard finished. “The others, nothing. Someone thought the blonde one was a dancer in _Afterlife_ , but Aria didn’t recognize her.”

“The ‘bald one’ is a Blue Sun,” Jack stole Garrus’ quickly diminishing thunder. “Ray? Reese?“

“Or something,” Garrus sighed.

“Riastrad,” James announced as he came down the steps of the club dripping with smugness. “Big Baldy Maine is called Riastrad around here.”

“You didn’t,” Liara started to blush at the triumphant glow the four men were openly radiating.

“ _You_ said we should talk to the bartender,” Joker reminded with cruel glee. “James started shooting the shit over shots, Kaidan offered a good tip-“

“I offered what most privates make in a month,” Kaidan corrected bitterly. “But it did get him talking.”

“Most of it was what Aria already told us,” James recaptured his story proudly. “And he didn’t have anything to say about a gun he couldn’t see. Thought he knew the blonde, but turns out he was thinking of a waitress they just got. Not her.”

“But he recognized this guy, no doubt,” Joker was practically bouncing with pride. “‘Cause he ‘likes his whisky strong, immediately, and with some blood in it.’”

“Ricestrad?” Jack sneered at the name.

“Riastrad,” Cortez corrected. “Probably a nickname or gang title.”

“It means a ‘battle frenzy,’” Kasumi explained. “It’s like a human ‘blood rage.’”

“You have those?” Grunt asked hopefully.

“Mythologically,” Kasumi tempered the krogan’s interest. “An old folk hero got them in battle. He would turn himself inside out, grow spikes, and boil water with the heat of his skin. People pay good money for paintings of it.”

“Impressive,” Grunt nodded his approval.

“Any idea where he is now?” Shepard got back to business.

“He hasn't been around for several months, according to the bar staff,” Kaidan shook his head. “Probably since this new group hired him. Wonder how Zaeed missed that?”

“He’s young enough to have missed Zaeed by a decade,” Shepard sighed in exasperation. “Garrus? Anything more from your guy?”

“He said we could look into slavers,” Garrus admitted unhappily. “The gun probably came from someone who moved both guns and human slaves. But our mercenaries are probably too young to be the original owners of a gun like that.”

“I can give the information about the Blue Suns to Feron,” Liara tried to soothe Garrus, which only served to remind Garrus that he needed to be soothed. “That’s something.”

The crew all nodded, as if repetition and a unanimous gesture would get them results. Shepard congratulated them, elbowing Garrus encouragingly on the way to the ship. Garrus didn’t know what he had been expecting. He had hoped for something more, an epiphany or a deciding confrontation. He really was losing his touch.

“What’s wrong?” Tali slid her hand into Garrus’ confidently. “We got a name. That’s good.”

“I know,” Garrus tried not to resent the others for contributing. “I wanted more than a name. Who they worked for, or a clue to where they’re hiding, or where they come to trade…something that will let us take the fight to them. This feels like a dead end.”

“It doesn’t have to be a dead end,” Tali patted Garrus’ arm.”We’ll find something else.”

More likely Feron would find something else. Or Liara. Or worst of all, Zaeed. No, even worse, one of their new associates, without Garrus' help at all. Tali twined her arm with his, repeating, “We’ll find something else. We always do.”

Shepard heard Tali’s comment, smiling at Garrus and calling, “And if they come back here, they’re in for a nasty surprise. Good call, Garrus.”

Garrus accepted the praise out of obligation while the loathsome feeling of frustration and uncertainty took hold. What had James’ called it? ‘A game of cat and mouse?’ Based on James’ subsequent explanation, Garrus hated the growing suspicion that they had become the mouse in this game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, North and South weren't slavers. Explanation to follow in next chapter.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one. There's introductory Tex stuff, and Wash stuff, and more Tex stuff. I thought about splitting it into 2 chapters, but that breaks the alternating pattern, so I split chapter into two sections.

Tex liked having the showers to herself for a few minutes every morning. Wyoming had loudly asked if it was because she was a prude, as if she was a teenager scared to be seen in the locker room. In addition to the premium hot water, Tex liked the excuse for peace and quiet. The rest of the day would be full of training, awkward small talk in the halls, and listening to the others gab at each other, while at night she would hear all of them moving between rooms. They didn’t think much of her, the new kid invading their click from the war. Tex understood that mentality. She just didn’t need the sideways looks or forced pleasantries as they tried to wheedle her into a team that didn’t want her.

Wiping soap out of her eyes, Tex heard the clatter of someone at the sink. Peeking through the slit between the curtain and the wall, Tex saw Wash digging through his dopp kit. Wash massaged the base of his neck gingerly, groaning softly as Epsilon appeared to stand on the faucet. Tex hadn’t seen the projection since the first meeting in the hallway, even in the dining hall or as Wash watched as they trained, but she had heard Wash bickering and whispering to him almost constantly. Wash ignored the projection, washing his face while Epsilon went from faucet to the top of the mirror and back.Wash yelped in annoyance when Epsilon’s light flashed from the bottom of the sink.

“Are you gonna be a dick today?” Wash asked Epsilon’s image rising from the sink. “Sure, you promise now, but the other AIs are going to be out, and…no.”

The AI was silent, forcing Tex to duck behind the curtain when Wash glanced over his shoulder at the running shower. 

“No, I’m not saying…because it’s weird now,” Wash mumbled to the sink. “Don’t you-“

“Good morning, Tex,” Wash’s voice called over itself. “Wanna be on my team for paint ball?”

“You _little-_ “ Wash hissed savagely at himself before blaring down into the sink. “Sorry, Epsilon is _trying_ to…practice being polite. Morning.”

“Good morning!!” Epsilon called smugly.

“Hey,” Tex hated the ringing awkward silence on the other side of the curtain. “Sure, if you promise not to get shot in the first five minutes.”

Wash mumbled something, keeping his shoulders hunched and his eyes down as he rummaged through his kit sharply. Tex tried to overlook a wriggle of guilt as she watched the back of Wash’s neck turn red around pale scar tissue. Connie and South had said worse, even York hit below the belt on a bad day, but Tex wished she had just said ‘good morning’ and ‘sure.’

“Happy?” Wash shook his head sharply. “Oh…yeah, ok, you could have been clearer, I like ‘not getting shot’ too.”

“Wow, you’re up at the crack of dawn for you,” North chuckled the observation as he joined Wash and announced to the room, “Good morning.”

Tex heard the expectant pause after Wash groaned back at North and allowed herself a wordless cough of greeting. North didn’t look at the shower, passing a wave onto Epsilon before the AI disappeared. 

“You good?” North asked casually as he hung up his towel and took off his shirt. “I saw you coming out of the med bay with Wyoming.”

“Routine stuff, making sure my armor can take Epsilon’s abilities,” Wash assured. In spite of herself, Tex peeked again at the sound of Wash clearing his throat and mumbling, “Theta’s…finicky, about storage, right?”

North folded his shirt methodically over the question. Wash was one jumpy kid, Tex watched Wash’s fingers drum on the sides of the sink while North thought. North snapped his shirt, the muscles in his shoulders relaxing from the coil of tension Theta always caused in North when a question concerned him. Tex lathered soap as softly as possible in the thoughtful silence, practical curiosity getting the better of her.

“I think he gets lonely when he’s in there,” North replied slowly. “They’re with us, all day, we’re…we’re their only activity, y’know? Then we shove them into a drive, and it’s just them and databases that they’ve already worked through. Like if we just got locked separately in our rooms alone after training. Delta and Gamma don’t mind, maybe, but for Theta, it’s like being put in solitary confinement. Is Epsilon having trouble switching back and forth?”

Wash nodded uncertainly, mumbling, “Sort of. He-“

“Ready to impress us?” Carolina interrupted as she entered. “I heard you got extra power in your armor. So…lightening, huh?”

“No,” Wash shuffled at his sink.

“Shields?” Carolina asked Wash and then asked North, “Do you have extra soap, I’m out?” 

Tex swore to herself as York joined the crowd and experimentally choose the sink closest to North.North threw Carolina a bar of soap, looking to York as York scolded, “Come on, don’t ruin the surprise.”

“Yeah,” North agreed without the weighted pause he had subjected York to in the last few days. “Let him show off on the fly.”

Carolina flicked her towel into York on her way by to make him jump and thanked North as she ducked into the shower. York flashed a thumbs up to Wash before confidently digging through North’s things for shaving cream, nodding when North called, “Put that back when you’re done,” from his own shower.Wash tossed his towel over his shoulder and headed for the door.

“Wait,” York called. “You were here first, have at it.”

“I’ll just do it tonight,” Wash decided. “I’m gonna sweat all day.”

Tex risked turning off the water and wrapping herself snugly in her towel as Wash left. Waiting until York was lathering up, Tex shuffled for the lockers.

“Good morning, Agent Texas. I hope you slept well?” Sigma heralded the approach of Maine around the corner. Tex ducked away from the AI in her face and Maine stepped around her without even a growl. Sigma drifted backwards to follow Texas, staring at her from his aura of flames.

“Whatever,” Tex snapped to scare Sigma off.

“S’up, Maine! What, no sunny smile this morning?” York crowed at Maine as he joined him.

Sigma burst out and reported from the sinks behind Tex, “Good morning, Agent York. Agent Maine will consider smiling later in the day.”

Maine growled to solidify the ‘reassurance’ as Tex dug into her locker and dressed as fast as possible. South ignored Tex as she entered and dug through her locker, stepping over Tex while the other woman tied her boots. Locking her locker snugly, Tex hurried to the dining hall, picking a seat in the corner and digging into a bowl of watery oatmeal as the others filed in. York tossed his tray down at the far end of Tex’s table without asking, informing the room, “Nice, they’re giving us real orange juice and butter today.”

“Exhibition day,” South reminded through a bite. “So they give you guys the good stuff.”

“Us,” Carolina corrected as she sat down. “We all get the same rotating menu, South.”

“So far,” Connie nudged her tray back to give Wash space. “Still got the squirts?”

Tex wrinkled her nose while Wash spread a thin layer of butter on plain toast in place of his heaping plate of whatever fried starch and protein they were offered every day.

“I don’t want to puke in my helmet if Epsilon has trouble in practice,” Wash licked butter off the knife. 

“Gotta start training him,” Wyoming advised wisely. “Let him know you’re the boss. Right, Gamma?”

“Of course, Agent Wyoming,” Gamma reported promptly.

North rolled his eyes over his juice, looking down as Delta appeared on the table top in response to York chuckling, “Yeah, the only reason Delta does anything is because I have him whipped, right?… _Right_ , D?”

“I would not characterize our cooperation that way, Agent York,” Delta disagreed thoughtfully. “I do what I’m instructed to, when I’m able, because it is my assignment. Emotionally enforced obedience is not involved.”

“Wait, ‘when you’re able?’” South held up her hand in front of Delta’s body and asked in sarcastic awe. “You mean there are things you _can’t do_?”

“That…that’s what you’re asking after that?” Connie asked with a worried look at Delta.

“Agent York has asked me to ‘fetch,’ on occasion,” Delta explained. “It was unsuccessful.”

“I was kidding,” York insisted. “And you know that.”

“Yes, Agent York, I do,” Delta assured. “It was merely an example. Should I give another one? I can think of several.”

Delta flashed out from under York’s hand smacking the table to squash him flat. Tex ate to hide a smile when Delta reappeared a moment later by York’s other hand, looking up at York almost indignantly. Sigma drifted down from Maine’s shoulder, adding thoughtfully, “Intimidation is not necessary, Agent Wyoming. Cooperation with our agent is our task. Failure to do so would render us obsolete. Obsolete tools are quickly discarded or replaced.”

“Jesus, Maine,” North sighed, shooting a look at Wash when the younger man gulped. 

“I was personally expanding on Delta’s explanation,” Sigma corrected North, drifting closer to address Delta. “Disobeying our agents would create…unfavorable conditions. Is that correct, Delta?”

York glanced down as Delta remained staring up at him. Tex looked past York to Wash’s miserable squirm as the rest of the table watched York or the AIs. Delta flickered and York chewed carefully while his AI responded, “The assertion would be validated by historical analysis. Sigma.”

“Speaking of unfavorable conditions,” Carolina interrupted. “The Director wants an update on the Cortez and Vega thing.”

York lowered his glass through Delta’s fading hologram in front of Sigma, sending the remaining AI streaming back to stand in front of Maine. Putting his toast aside, Wash pushed his tray to South and sipped his water in silence.

“James grew up Earthside and thinks the Alliance uniform is ‘constricting.’ Not that he’s wrong, with pecs the size of my head,” Connie offered sardonically. “And they’re heading to _Omega,_ ‘cause ‘Scars has something up his butt.’ That was yesterday. So they’re on the move and the turian’s kinky.”

“I haven’t gotten anything in a few days,” North sounded freshly annoyed. “The last one was to thank York for the list and recommend I read _Captain Orino’s Last Stand_.”

“You’ve started a book club?” Wyoming asked.

“I said ‘wow, hunting mercs sounds fun, things are slow here,’ and he took the hint very wrong,” North sighed. “Do we have a knew job yet? One that doesn’t involve me sitting on my ass or shooting paper?”

“Nothing yet,” Carolina shook her head, drawing a groan from York and Connie. “I’ll let you know! It’s like you’re the ones being cooped up here for weeks.”

“I’ll switch with someone,” Connie raised her hand.

“Wouldn’t work,” York shook his head and swallowed loudly. “They know what the rest of these guys look like.”

“Not Tex,” South gestured at Tex with her fork.

Tex stirred her oatmeal as the entire table turned to examine her. The worst part was, Tex was genuinely considering the idea. She hadn’t been out since she’d gotten to the base, and she had never made it to the Citadel or the famed _Omega._ Getting a glimpse of the types of aliens she’d be up against would be a welcome change. Tex looked up from twirling a hollow into her oatmeal to find everyone still looking at her.

“I don’t think Connie-cticut and I looked _that_ much alike,” Tex reasoned. “Even Vega might noticed if she suddenly comes up to his nose and turned into a redhead. Maybe.”

York chuckled weakly beside North’s tentative snicker and Carolina’s sideways look. Connie blinked slowly, concluding through a mouthful of toast, “Duh. Anymore bright ideas, South?”

“Throw her at the asari and see if she sticks?” South suggested under her breath.

Tex didn’t take the bait, scraping the bottom of her bowl over Wyoming’s short chortle and North’s tolerant sigh so she didn’t have to look at her audience waiting to see if she had heard South. She had no interest in the asari, but getting into a snark off with South Dakota was even lower on her list. The group gave up quickly, leaving Tex to her meal after South grumbled in defeat.

“Let’s go. We’ve got shit to do,” Carolina rallied the table from the awkward silence Tex had left.

Tex painstakingly got the last particles of food from her bowl, watching the others leave after the laugh at her expense. Carolina paid her a passing look at the door. The others followed Carolina out of habit, Tex sensed, excepting fleeting insubordination, and Carolina liked that tradition.Well, until Carolina started signing her paychecks, Tex would follow her own traditions.

The others dressed with practiced speed in the locker room. South snapped her armor into place and shoved past Tex, slamming the door of Tex’s locker back out of her way. Tex resisted the urge to trip her, catching sight of Connie shaking her bangs down for a shield as she tied her boots. Carolina tugged South back by her armor to prove her point before shooing South out the door. Tex studied the inside of her locker as she buckled her armor into place, checking her equipment to let the others trickle out. 

“See you out there?”Connie asked from the end of the row.

“Yeah,” Wash didn’t sound certain through the echo. “Epsilon just needs a minute. Stage fright.”

“Don’t overthink it,” York advised from the doorway. “It’s just practice.”

Tex closed her locker softly as the others left, hurrying to straighten her armor as she heard Wash start to mumble. Glancing around the corner as she finished buckling her gauntlet, Tex saw Wash leaning on his knees to talk to Epsilon.

“Don’t go crazy out there,” Wash instructed down to the small hologram between his feet. “We don’t get points for creativity if it doesn’t work.”

“Is the Director really going to be there?” Epsilon asked.

“Yeah, he never misses an evaluation,” Wash sounded even more crestfallen. “I’m trying not to think about that, thanks.”

“Oops,” Epsilon observed. Epsilon dimmed and brightened slowly, deciding, “F.I.L.S.S. has voice recognition for commands.”

“Yeah…” Wash straightened up as Epsilon looked up at him. Wash tilted his head and Epsilon brightened. Wash smiled reluctantly, cautioning, “No. You can’t hijack F.I.L.S.S.”

“It’ll be easier than the other shit,”Epsilon reasoned unconvincingly. “And he might think it’s funny?”

“He might _explode_ ,” Wash corrected.

“You wanted to blow his mind,” Epsilon’s voice rattled with a mechanical laugh. “I think that would do the trick.”

“Even Delta isn’t that literal,” Wash poked Epsilon with his foot. “I _know_ you aren’t.”

Epsilon leapt onto Wash’s shoulder when he noticed Tex, taking shelter behind Wash’s cheek. Wash looked to Epsilon, watching the AI on his shoulder nervously. Tex shoved on her helmet when Wash looked at her. Wash’s armor clacked behind her as he rose, reminding Epsilon, “Stick to Plan A.”

The Director liked to keep them waiting, and the agents fell into their morning routines naturally. Tex wiled away time with reflex drills until her eyes hurt, switching to practice lock picking for variety. South sparred with York while Connie cleaned her assault rifle lazily and Wash sent a knife spinning into a target to demonstrate his nervous energy. 

Tex flinched from the crackle of Gamma guiding bolts of electricity from Wyoming’s armor to char the center of a target eight feet away. He was getting to accurate with that, facing off with him might become unpleasant soon. North lay out guns and paintballs in preparation for the Director’s eventual appearance, equally spacing the ammo across the table. Theta glanced around him to make sure the agents were busy before he glided forward. Tex watched out from under her visor as Theta flew over the ammo clips, flipped the board under his feet before he landed with a pantomimed skid to a dead stop. Flipping the board up with his foot, Theta disintegrated the board in midair to listen as North talked to him.

Tex tore herself away from the second of fun at the persistent chimes of Carolina’s reflex drill. Carolina smashed the red panels into green in a practically seamless flurry of feet and fists. Carolina was undeniably dedicated. She practiced longer than anyone at night, and never showed the fatigue that the others let themselves commiserate over. Kicking the last circle in its center, Carolina readjusted her posture and shot a look at the leader board. 

Tex didn’t need to look to know that her name was still at the top. She had bested Carolina’s accuracy and reflex scores, defeated Connie and York separately and held her own against them as a duo, she shot well enough to impress the twins, and won four out of six paintball matches. Tex didn’t worry about what the others saw or about running herself into the ground practicing all day; drills were games, and failing at games wasn’t an option. That reality was simple and achievable. If Carolina stopped training for the sake of training and stopped focussing on proving she was top dog, she might give Tex real competition.

“Agents Wyoming, Maine, and North Dakota, remove yourselves from the training floor,” the Director’s cold voice suddenly ordered from above. “Agents Carolina, Connecticut, and Carolina, you will compete with Agents York, Texas, and Washington.”

The agents all looked to the window in surprise or indignation. Paintball teams were usually divided informally, but left the AIs distributed between the sides. Even without active combat abilities, Theta and Delta’s scans of the field gave North and York an advantage. Wash clicked his knife testily as he watched North leave with the others, shaking his head against Epsilon’s input. Carolina snapped her fingers at Connie and South, barely catching York’s offer for a fist bump before she stomped away.

“We got this. You just need to show what you and Epsilon can do,” York promised Wash.“Do you want to defend, or go for the flag?”

“We kinda wanted North for long range defense, but…” Wash bounced on his feet nervously. “I’ll go for the flag anyway, screw it.”

“I can do long range defense,” Tex offered before Wash vibrated out of his armor. “What’d you have in mind?”

Wash scuffed his foot on the ground and tilted his head back and forth, almost making Tex laugh at how much he looked like York and North as he listened to Epsilon’s input. Nodding shortly at nothing, Wash said, “Um…camouflage.”

“Cloaking?” York sounded disappointed.

“Er…yeah, go with that,” Wash finished strongly as he backed away. “Just keep those three busy.”

York shrugged, handing Tex the flag and choosing a defensive post halfway down the field. Tex set the flag in place and placed herself just in front of it. Looking across the field, she could see South doing the same thing, already stationed with her site down the field in preparation. Carolina would be offense, so Tex would leave York to keep a stalemate with Connie steady. 

“Begin,” the Director snapped.

Wash slid around his pillar of cover, stumbling into the safety of the next cover under a shot from South. Leaning against the pillar, Wash took a deep breath, going stalk still. Tex saw Carolina move up and sent a shot at her toes to make her reconsider the approach. Glancing back at Wash, Tex saw his armor ripple with a blue tinge of energy before he sprinted for the next cover.

“No shit,” York murmured in Tex’s ear. “That’s awesome, Wash.”

“What’s he doing?” Tex asked, shooting at South to distract her as Wash slid into his next cover. “He can’t do that the entire way.”

“He doesn’t have to,he’s using a decoy,” York fired at Connie, cursing as he barely missed her shoulder.

“Shit!” Wash shouted, sinking behind his pillar and hunkering down as South and Connie painted it evenly. “OK, I get it, you can stop now!”

“It’s not working,” Tex observed.

“Yeah, it is, keep hammering them,” York ordered. 

Tex didn’t have a chance to argue when Carolina took advantage of her gawking to sprint up the side of the arena. Tex shot fast, missing Carolina when she dodged but forcing the other agent into cover.

“Let Carolina advance a little bit, give her something to do,” York advised calmly, popping in more ammo. “On my count, go for South.”

“You don’t _get_ how capture the flag works, do you?” Tex accused irritably.

“We need to give Wash space,” York contradicted. “At that range, Carolina can catch him before he can get back to our side. Tex fire on my count, Wash, you’re good to go in 3…2…1.”

Wash stayed stubbornly hunkered behind the pillar even as York pulled the trigger and hit Connie square in the head. Tex grit her teeth at Carolina approaching the border, but followed York’s order and missed South by a mile. Wash leaned out from cover, ducking back quickly when South’s paint burst over the corner of the pillar.

“Are you going to _move_?” Tex shouted at Wash.

“Shut up,” Wash ordered as his armor flickered. “I’m busy.”

“You’re sitting there!”

“Tex, _that’s_ the decoy, Wash is practically at their flag,” York explained, taking a pot shot at South while she fired at Wash’s cover. “Watch Carolina.”

“What about Wash?” Tex raised her head to look for him on the floor.

“Don’t _look_ ,” Wash ordered. “That’s the point.”

Ignoring the order, Tex craned her head to see down the field. Carolina was still approaching, Connie was sitting in a paint mask, and South was zeroed in on Wash’s pillar of safety.

“Tex, I swear to God,” Wash growled with startling conviction. “Stop looking, you’re going to get us shot.”

“Us?”

“Me, you’re going to get me shot,” Wash amended, standing slowly and leaning out from cover. Twisting around the side of the pillar closest to the wall, Wash tucked and rolled away from South’s spray of paint, barely missing a ball clipping through his shoulder. Tex blinked against the glare of the arena lights as Wash’s armor flickered with a blue tinge before returning to dark grey. “Any day now, dude…any day.”

“Tex, don’t let Carolina up that far!” York shouted, shooting backwards. “Focus!”

Tex crashed back to reality as she noticed the bolt of teal. York’s shot hit the pillar behind Carolina, and Tex fired without thinking. Tex’s paintball hit the pillar just in front of Carolina’s head, the paint spike shattered over Carolina’s helmet as she crashed through it. Veering away from Tex’s second shot with a burst of speed, Carolina dove into cover, fragments of paint flying from behind it as she struggled to clear her helmet.

“Nice! I’ll keep South busy, Tex, keep Carolina pinned,” York praised. 

Tex risked looking up, forgetting to turn back to Carolina as she stared at the empty stand that had held the other team’s flag. South was still facing forward, but the flag was gone. Tex ran her gaze over the field, blurting, “What?!” when all she saw was Connie sulking.

“Don’t fuck it up!” Wash snapped.

“Cloaking, lot’s of cloaking, Tex, get Carolina!” York ordered.

Tex glanced to find Carolina, cursing as Carolina tore the flag out of the stand and turned to flee. Tex ran after her, jumping away from South’s shot to her knees and cutting around the other side of the pillar Carolina had put between them. South looked over her shoulder, tightening her grip on her gun and sweeping the muzzle over the floor.

“Oh, god damn it!” Wash shouted. “New plan!”

Wash disappeared from his shelter with a flash. Halfway down the room, Wash sputtered into view, sprinting for York with the flag hoisted over his shoulder. Before Tex had time to shout, Carolina dropped the flag and South ducked her head from her gun to cover her eyes. Tripping to safety, Wash slammed the butt of the flag into the floor, catching himself on the handle while Epsilon reappeared on his shoulder.

“Got it!” Epsilon called up to the window.

York jogged to Wash’s side, helpfully taking the flag and brandishing it at the window as proof. Fighting down confusion and frustration, Tex marched past Carolina tearing off her helmet and rubbing her eyes to join her team, placing a hand on Wash’s shoulder to reassure herself it was solid. Wash’s shoulder shook under her grip, barely contained to his armor. South stormed forward and threw her helmet at Wash, shoving past Connie and lurching to a stop in front of Wash to demand, “What the _shit_ was that?”

“I created a flash to distract you,” Epsilon explained for Wash. Flashing brightly as proof before darting away from South, Epsilon added in a smooth croon, “You made it look effective, Agent South…Dakota.”

“Wash, I’m gonna _deck_ you for that!” South elbowed Connie off.

“Hey, _hey_ , he was just doing the drill,” York cut in front of her. “It’s already wearing off.”

“Get fucked, York, “ South snapped. “You don’t stick a flash grenade in someone’s helmet!”

“It was not that strong,” Epsilon contradicted. “It’ll already have worn off.”

South swiped for the AI, glaring furiously at Epsilon for materializing just out of reach on York’s other side. Tex instinctually tightened her grip on Wash’s shoulder as he stumbled away from South, tugging at the straps of his helmet clumsily.

“Agent South Dakota, compose yourself,” the Director ordered curtly. “The round is over.”

South visibly forced herself to stay where she was with her armor creaking from the effort. Connie and Carolina joined her more calmly, both looking more impressed. There was still a tinge of bitterness Tex could detect, but Connie’s “What was that?” spoke more to awe than anger.

Wash took off his helmet and wiped off his face while he struggled to catch his breath. Epsilon returned to his side, looking to Wash curiously before he started to expand. Epsilon’s projection grew and darkened, the helmet on his head melting into Wash’s messy hair and flushed face as his newly grey armored boots touched the floor. At this distance Tex could see the flaws of the projection: a slight vibration at the edges and eerie smoothness and translucency to the armor, hair, and skin that lacked the blotchy flush and shine of sweat as the real Wash panted. 

“I cloaked Agent Wash while you were focussed on me,” Epsilon said, looking to the real Wash for agreement. Wash blinked in front of them, disappearing into the pillar behind him with only a slight blur to betray his position. Epsilon’s Wash pointed to the flag, explaining, “I cloaked the flag too, otherwise you would have noticed.”

“Cloaking and a decoy,” Carolina nodded importantly when Wash reappeared. “Your opponent doesn’t even know the real one is missing.”

“Delta did,” York bragged for his AI. “You wouldn’t know if you couldn’t scan it for vitals, though.”

“And I’m better than a standard decoy,” Epsilon’s Wash informed, materializing a knife to flip casually in his fingers. “I can move on my own, cloak at the same time, and cloak things close by. I’m kind of the shit.”

“I didn’t want you _trying_ to keep track of me,” Wash explained to Tex and York through his wheezing. “Epsilon thought you’d neglect the hologram, like we do Connie’s. And concentrating was hard enough, talking wasn’t gonna happen, especially that close to South.”

“I would have shut up if you’d given us a heads up,” Tex protested, adding more kindly, “But, I get it. Keep the camouflage convincing before we get cocky and tip them off. Nice job.”

“I covered it,” Epsilon said as he flashed back to his normal hologram. “But, yeah, it sucked hard.”

“Sorry about the flash,” Wash admitted with an exhausted sniff. “I couldn’t keep the hologram going and run at the same time.”

“So we improvised,” Epsilon finished. “It was the first idea that seemed doable.”

Wash smiled weakly at the AI. South had stopped seething, reluctantly nodding when Wash looked at her for her forgiveness. Carolina offered Wash her fist, tapping his knuckles lightly in congratulations and getting him to grin.

“Definitely impressed,” Carolina praised and Wash practically glowed with pride.

“Agent Washington, report to the med bay for assessment,” the Director ordered dispassionately. 

Wash and Epsilon looked up to the Director in surprise. The Director was already gone, leavingthe agents to wonder at his level of approval. Wash wiped dripping sweat from his forehead, grinning again when South finally admitted, “Ok, that was ballsy, Davy.”

“Wash works too,” Epsilon reminded casually from over Wash’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Wash laughed, jerking away from Connie feigning a reach to ruffle his hair. “Oof, give me a break, ok? I should get to the med bay.”

“Need a hand?” North asked proudly as he returned to the arena.

Wash shook his head, straightening up despite a residual tremor in both of his legs.

“I can walk,” Wash insisted. “Besides, we’re trying to _stop_ passing out after every scuffle.”

“Ooooh, _low_ ,” North warned with a laugh.

Epsilon watched Wash doubtfully as his agent tripped over his own feet, mumbling something to Wash as they rounded the corner into the hall. The impressed excitement died down slowly, fueling the agents through their own training. Wash didn’t return in hours afterwards while the agents wiled away time in the dining hall over a sparse lunch and waited for dinner. Tex was glad to get out of her armor and sit quietly in the corner while the others amused themselves with cards, computers, and data pads. Tex occupied herself with the backgrounds of the Normandy crew. She knew their pictures and skills by heart, and had watched as many videos of Shepard as she could stand, but it would never be the same as facing them. Counting the number of aliens on her fingers, Tex was surprised by Shepard’s progressive integration. Tex had never faced down a krogan, turian, or asari personally, that was sure to keep the job interesting, if she ever got to do it. 

“Hey,” Connie rose from her seat as soon as Wash appeared just in time to eat. “That took forever, did they give you the ok?”

“Yeah,” Wash rolled his neck carefully. “Shields, cloaking, a fully functional decoy, it takes an ass ton of power. So they had to check me and Epsilon, and my armor, and me back in my armor. But everything’s fine.”

“How’s Epsilon handling it?” Carolina asked while handing Wash a tray.

“They made me put him in storage, so I could crash for the night. That was…yeah, Epsilon didn’t like that,” Wash looked at Maine guiltily. “Maine, you’re supposed to report there after dinner.”

“Why do they keep calling you in?” York asked from behind his computer. “You and Sigma are kicking ass as it is.”

“I am more involved with Agent Maine’s daily actions than my fellow AIs. The doctors are ensuring there are no negative effects from such long term intensive use,” Sigma explained, smiling indulgently. “Nothing has been found, please don’t worry. Thank you, Agent Washington.”

Wash rubbed his neck absentmindedly, jumping to say, “Yeah. Yeah, thanks,” as he took his seat with Connie. Tex tried to enjoy the quiet meal, confident that she didn’t care that Wash satisfied himself with an apple and a half-hearted serving of pudding. Maine at quickly, leaving a soft farewell to Sigma.

“Looking a tad peaky, Wash,” Wyoming noted gleefully. “Paintball putting you off your feed?”

“Get bent, Reggie,” Wash growled over a pudding sculpture.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” York asked, leaning away when Wash exhaled harshly. “Ooookay, I’m taking that as a yes.”

Tex wouldn’t, but she wasn’t going to say that. Wash stuck his spoon in his mouth to suck mournfully, swallowing painfully with Herculean effort. 

“Sorry,” Wash ducked his head. “I’m…tired, and motion sick from sharing eyes with an AI all day. And, Epsilon hates the doctors’ tests, so I got to sit through him arguing with the questions for a couple hours. I keep telling him it makes the tests last longer, but they _had_ to have a trick question in the first one, now he thinks every one could be a set up.” 

“Even Delta second guesses on those tests, I thought he’d short out when they showed him an optical illusion,” York reassured, grimacing remorsefully when Wash lost two shades of color from his face. “A night on a drive might calm Epsilon down, let him focus on databases instead of weird human stuff.”

“Maybe…” Wash didn’t sound confident. Wash squeezed his head between his palms and raked his hair back with both hands. “Tomorrow’s gonna _suck_.”

“Alright, you showed off today,” Carolina reminded, reaching for Wash’s shoulder before Wash paced away irritably. “Get some shut eye and take it easy tomorrow.”

Wash tugged his shirt away from his neck, falling into step with South as the latter approached hovering on their way to their bunks. Tex closed her door without giving or getting a goodnight, contenting herself with stretching out on her bunk and listening. Closing her eyes, Tex waited through South’s familiar complaints to North, and York’s door opening and closing too many times, and Wash leaving Connie’s room with a garbled excuse, until all there was was the rumble and hum of the ship around her.

Wash and Epsilon wouldn’t last long if they didn’t learn to play the game. Everything here was a test, with the final grade broadcast for all to see. Tex couldn’t let herself get bogged with proving herself the teachers pet or fall into the spiral of anxiety over the ranks on the wall or what the others thought. She just needed to get the job done.

  

* * *

 

 

Rolling over to glare at the 2:15 figure glowing cheerfully out of her clock, Tex swung out of bed. The pervasive solitude in space and daily downtime left Tex restless. Reaching her arms out to measure her cramped and bare room, Tex eased her door open and crept down the dimly lit hallway. Walking on the balls of her feet to keep the floor from rattling, Tex meandered through the ‘Tin Can.’ The name was growing on Tex. Cold bare hallways led into empty conference rooms and the abandoned training floor, every noise echoed metallically, and the only scenery to be seen was the sporadic glow of a space station or foreign sun. It made Tex miss Earth, if she let herself think about it.

Tex stopped walking at the sound of something rasping harshly. Scuffing her boot on the floor experimentally, Tex instinctively reached for a gun that wasn’t there at the second rattling squelch. Checking the knife on her belt for safe keeping, Tex stuck her head around the corner, regretting it when the rattling lead into a ragged retch. Sliding reluctantly towards the locker room door, Tex wishfully hoped that the splatter was coming from the hissing shower.

“Oooow,…” Wash’s miserable whimper cut off to accommodate another heave.

She could go back to her room. There was no reason she had to walk down this particular hall, she could loop back around and sneak back into her bunk as if she had never left.

“Ok. Ok, ok, ok, ok…nope,” Wash panted to himself through a splash of water.

Tex forced her feet to the line of sinks, running her fingers over the faucets until some of them happened to catch and pull the water on. Wash’s latest cough ended in a splutter. Tex twisted the faucet on and off, waiting for Wash to spit savagely before asking, “Still feeling motion sick?”

“Why are you even _here_?” Wash groaned.

“I was going to ask you that, but I could hear you down the hall,” Tex informed. “Sounds…bad.”

“It feels worse,” Wash retorted over more splashing.

“I thought the doctors said you looked good.”

“I’m fine. It’s just the normal headaches and crap,” Wash panted rapidly.

Tex ran her fingers through the stream of water, listening to the soft rush of the shower and faucet with Wash hyperventilating underneath. Wash groaned lowly, splashing water through the curtain as he moved.

“Are you still out there?” Wash asked tentatively.

“Yup.” 

Wash didn’t take that well, whimpering to himself from his shelter. Spitting forcefully, Wash’s skin squeaked against the tile before another loud splash sent water flying out under the curtain. Tex winced at an aggressive thump on the wall.

“I think North has some pain killers,” Wash explained. “And I’ll, I dunno, I’ll help you with lock picking if you get him. I’d get him, but I’m naked, right now.”

“I don’t need help in lock picking,” Tex fibbed.

“Then can you at least shut up? Everything is really loud, you’re not helping,” Wash demanded. 

Tex considered leaving him there. She considered it as she turned off the faucet and winced at another gag from behind the curtain. She considered it as she walked away from the smell of vomit and stale sweat on Wash’s clothes where they were in a heap on the floor. She considered it as she was knocking on North’s door and he answered before she could leave.

“Yeah?” North’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of Tex. “Um, yeah?”

“Wash is puking up a lung,” Tex jacked her thumb down the hall. “He says you might have something. Sorry he didn’t wait a few hours.”

“Nah, I was up anyway,” North waved off the concern, turning into his room and returning with a medicine bottle. “Thanks.”

“No, he’s in the showers,” Tex corrected when North reached for Wash’s door. “I can take them.”

“Thanks, I got it,” North assured. Tex nodded at the obvious, backing away towards her room. North tossed the bottle in his hand, adding, “If you’ve got a glass handy so I don’t have to raid the kitchen, though…”

Tex rushed back to her room, snatching her mug from her bedside table. This was just more practical curiosity, she reasoned as she caught up with North. It was better to see the side effects in person before she signed on for agony. North walked at a steady clip, speeding up his pace at the silence of the hallway outside the locker room.

“Wash?” North called. “You in here?”

“Uh,” the reply was clipped short. 

Tex bought time by filling the mug with water and stayed behind North as he shuffled softly to the lockers and peered around the corner, waving Tex forward at what he found. Tex rotated the mug in her hands, looking down at a dressed Wash curled up with his back against the bench and his eyes firmly closed. North squatted down, grimacing in sympathy.

“Migraine, huh?” North asked, already unscrewing the bottle. 

“My head feels like a drone’s bouncing around in it _,”_ Wash squeezed his eyes shut more tightly.

“Did you put Epsilon back in?” North knit his brows. “It takes practice to sleep through that.”

“Nuh. Sleeping with him in is…weird, weird dreams, a couple headaches,” Wash’s throat spasmed. “It hasn’t been this bad though. I was just gonna shower, but I can’t…see that well, ‘cause of the lights, so…I just stayed in here.”

North frowned, bouncing on the balls of his feet in thought. Theta appeared on his shoulder, looking at Wash curiously before looking nervously at Tex.

“Anything?” North asked the timidly floating AI.

“He’s breathing weird,” Theta observed the obvious softly. “I think he’s dehydrated, I can’t scan like Delta. Sorry.”

“It’s ok, that’s a start. Try these,” North tapped out two pills and put them in Wash’s hand. “And Tex got you some water.”

Wash opened one eye to a slit, closing it quickly at the sight of Tex over him. Taking that as her cue, Tex shoved the mug into Wash’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it for him. Wash sat up tenderly, bracing the hand holding the mug on his knee while he swallowed the pills. Peering out from under his eyelids, Wash sipped slowly, leaning backwards with his head against the bench until the cup was empty. North sat down beside him without speaking, leaving Tex to perch awkwardly on the end of the bench. Wash’s chest shuddered, his blotchy skin coated with water and sweat under his soaked shirt. Tex picked up the empty mug and went to refill it, risking a tap to Wash’s shoulder as she placed the mug in his hand. 

“This really, _really_ , sucks,” Wash experimentally opened his eyes and decided against it.

“It’ll get easier,” North promised. “Just try not to use all of Epsilon’s stuff at once, you could have hurt yourself.”

“You don’t get to lecture me, you pull crap like that with Theta all the time,” Wash reminded, turning his head to talk to North with is eyes still shut. 

“But I’m not the one spewing down the drain,” North said wisely. “Theta knows how much power everything takes, and I only make him go beyond that if I have to, to save your guys’ butts. You were showing off.”

Wash’s throat worked against itself, but he shook his head, muttering, “Epsilon had it calculated. We’d practiced. And it worked. That’s what the Director wants.”

“Not if you put yourself out of commission over a paintball game,” Tex corrected wryly.

North smiled softly at Tex and Wash rolled his eye to look at her. Wash laced his fingers behind the back of his neck while his breathing slowed and his complexion cooled to a less alarming clammy pale tint. 

“I get it, ok?” Wash admitted more softly. “But I had to prove we could do it. Cloaking or a hologram by itself isn’t worth an AI. I can handle it, it’s just…Epsilon hates all the questions and the doctors are fuckin’ sadistic with the poking and prodding, I felt worse after the check up.”

“Hey, I get _that_ ,” North assured. “It’s a lot of pressure. And the doctors must be bored stiff, so they take it out on us.”

“They’re mean,” Theta added, standing on the bench between North and Wash’s head. “Even when I do everything right, they look mad.”

“I swear they made up vaccinations and scans for me,” Tex finished since she was there. “Like I was a pincushion.”

Wash laughed shortly, placing a cupped hand over his eyes and inhaling deeply. Popping his knuckles under his thumb, Wash swallowed without the previous painful gurgle and leaned forward.

“Yeah,” Wash spoke to the floor between his knees. “Like a lab rat.”

Tex crossed her arms and hugged herself in the cold locker room. The doctors were businesslike to the point of apathy, Tex had to agree. Wash chewed at the corner of his mouth, bracing himself to rise and muttering, “I just need to pass out ’til tomorrow.”

North folded his lips in defeat. Tex gladly rose from the hard bench, reaching down to urge Wash up. Wash followed her arm up from her wrist without taking it, still looking skeptical.

“It’s not gonna bite, come on,” Tex waved to prove it. “And, that’s my mug.”

Wash took her hand reluctantly, leaving Tex with a smear of sweat across her palm as she pulled him to his feet and took the mug from Wash with the other hand. North stretched as he stood, keeping his hands in his pockets as the three of them walked back to the bunks with Wash strategically in the middle. Stopping at his door, Wash traced the raised scar on his neck.

“Thanks for the meds and the mug,” Wash wiped his mouth as he whispered. “I’ll wash it, if you-“

“I think it’s safe,” Tex shrugged. “You can’t have anything fatal, the docs would _love_ an excuse for a quarantine too much.”

Wash smiled mirthlessly and saluted North and Theta before closing his door. North puffed out his cheeks and blew out a soft raspberry. Chuckling at Theta’s startled step back in midair, North said, “Thanks for getting me. He’s lucky you were up.”

“Just couldn’t sleep,” Tex cut off North’s questioning look

“One of the main problems around here,” North agreed. Stretching towards the cieling, North said thoughtfully, “Helps to know where the cooks keep the scotch though.”

“Are you offering?” Tex thought wistfully of a stiff drink.

“I think we’ve earned it,” North nodded, glancing at Theta. “What’ya say, Theta?”

“Ok,” Theta nodded, looking between Tex and North uncertainly. “If you want.”

North offered his palm, confusing Tex in the instant before a perfect replica of the Pelican appeared in Theta’s bright colors. The iridescent Pelican lifted off smoothly, leading the agents down the hall to the dining hall. Tex had to smile when the ship sped into the kitchen, lurching back to the agents and reforming into Theta asking, “Aren’t the cooks gonna be mad? What if they spit in your food?”

“We’re not gonna take that much,” North laughed, dragging a step ladder over to a shelf of pots. Digging through the upper shelf, North offered over his shoulder, “You probably want to wash that mug. Wash is clean, but he probably didn’t brush his teeth after that technicolor yawn.”

“Technicolor yawn?” Tex almost laughed as she took the advice. “I haven’t heard that one since high school.”

“I heard it from this old merc back on _Omega_ ,” North wiggled out from the back of the shelf and triumphantly held up a bottle of scotch. “Ha! It’s not top shelf, but it’ll do the trick.”

“ _Omega_?” Tex had a hard time imagining North slumming it. “Oh, South did say you were mercenaries.”

North unscrewed the bottle eagerly, pouring a small helping for himself and giving Tex a more generous helping when she didn’t demand a limit. Sniffing the cheap liquor suspiciously, Tex took a sip and sat down across from North at one of the long tables. North laughed and sipped with no sign of discomfort.

“Not mercenaries, but we’ve done business with them” North clarified. “Mostly the Blue Suns, but anyone with the credits was fair game. You might have shot one of our guns.”

“Only if you sold to security companies,” Tex shook her head, holding her glass out for another drink since the first had stayed down. “I might have been shot at with one of your guns while clearing out the rabble, though.”

“Aaahhh, you’re a soldier-for-hire, yeah, we’ve sold to those,” North said knowingly, toasting the empty room. “Not as much blood and loot, but less likely to have C-Sec throw you in a cell. You guys made a killing during the war.”

Tex sipped the acrid liquor quickly as soon as she felt North start to pry. He was naturally friendly enough to seem innocent, but then, that was why York was using him. North obviously noticed, licking scotch from the corners of his mouth and offering Tex another serving. Leaving the mug out by chance, Tex studied the weak amber liquid in the quiet. North arched backwards and twisted sharply, groaning in satisfaction when his back popped loudly. North sipped his liquor calmly and smiled when Tex caught his eyes accidentally. 

“Still not talking?” North asked conversationally. “Dedicated, I can respect that.”

“You can?” Tex grumbled sarcastically into her mug.

“Well, when you’ve got an AI in your head, you can keep track of _exactly_ how long an awkward pause is,” North explained, blinking at something from Theta. “That was 27.78 seconds.”

North grinned in the face of Tex’s glare and swished his drink smugly. Tex turned the corners up her mouth up mockingly, disliking the amused glint in North’s eyes as he watched her. Raising one eyebrow pointedly, North scratched at a sprinkle of emerging stubble and cleared his throat at the ceiling. Looking around the dining hall curiously, North hummed under his breath before tapping a beat on the table top.

“You build ‘em, and Wash delivered them?” Tex asked just as she saw North purse his mouth to whistle.

“Nah, Wash never ran guns since I’ve known him. He stuck to food, medical supplies, and information, maybe some scrap and knives, ” North didn’t contain a satisfied smirk. “And South and I never gave our completed guns to someone else to deliver, it’s too risky. We picked Wash up a few years ago when he tried to overcharge us on medigel.”

“And he lived?” Tex couldn’t imagine South needing an excuse to take her pound of flesh.

“He quickly offered us a generous discount,” North smiled slightly at the memory. Seeing Tex’s incredulous look, North rotated his glass over the table. “He was stupid ‘cause he was green. Some scrawny guy trying get out from under smugglers who’d barely kept him fed. Call me soft, but I don’t like gunning a guy down over pocket change. He gave us the pick of his stuff from then on, and we called it square. He kinda stuck to us after that.”

North smiled again, leaning forward on his elbows to let Theta appear and peep out from behind his arm. Tex drummed her fingers on her cup in Theta’s direction, looking down when Theta ducked bashfully out of sight. 

“How did you go from the black market to drinking buddies with York?” Tex asked to full the silence until she finished her drink.“Were you one of his ‘associates?’”

“Hell no. We had an ‘everything must go’ sale when the Reapers landed. We either get blown to hell or get rich,” North said it as if he had been overseeing a garage sale. “Carolina and the company were helping York fill gaps in his unit, and she had bought from us before.”

“And they were already in the sack?” Tex made an educated guess. “

“I never asked. Anyway, York decided our work was good and he splurged,” North evaded Tex’s question kindly. “We were exchanging supplies when a Reaper barbecued the building next door. I tripped over York on the way to cover-“

“You grabbed him and dragged him down…” Theta piped up doubtfully. 

“-and he took it as an invitation to like me for some reason. It took too much energy to contradict him,” North said without a shred of conviction and an affectionate chuckle.“And he was giving us a good sum to fight with his group, so it seemed like an ok deal.”

Tex didn’t buy a word of it. North was polite to everyone, but he didn’t hide a suppressed distaste for Wyoming and Maine, whereas he was rarely more than a yard away from South and two yards away from York. Three yards away from Wash on average and always attentive to Carolina, but he could only be so many places at once.

“I guess that’s how you became Base Mom?” Tex pointed to the bottle of pills. “You’re a not so secret softy?”

“I have more than enough nicknames,’” North said haughtily, looking down at Theta and chuckling. “I’m used to cleaning up messes, that’s all. Someone had to be the adult when we were growing up, I just continue the tradition here.”

“So South’s the baby of the family,” Tex held out her glass for another serving. “Wow, I _never_ would have guessed.”

North poured Tex a moderate helping, reasoning almost defensively, “South isn’t as bad as she tries to be. You don’t make many friends in our line of work for a reason, it just makes it easier for people to screw you. We learned that fast when we got sent to  _Omega_.”

“Sent? Since when did they send colonizing missions to the Terminus Systems?” Tex didn’t believe that either. 

North poked his tongue in his cheek in a tell of annoyance, splashing more scotch into his glass.

“Mm-mm,” North shook his head forcefully and sipped through his teeth. “What about you? Earthside or colony born?”

“Smooth,” Tex choked when she tried to gulp her entire serving down. “No thanks.”

“Oh, come on,” North wheedled. “I’ve been running my mouth, it’s only fair.”

“ _You_ bitched about the awkward silence,” Tex pointed accusingly. “I didn’t ask you jack.”

“Yes you did,” Theta retorted with a squeak. “You…you asked if there was booze, and about the technicolor yawn, and if Washington delivered things, and-“

“I was making small talk,” Tex corrected. “I wasn’t expecting an interrogation.”

“This isn’t an interrogation, we’re just shooting the shit because insomnia is a bitch. I’ve lived with you for weeks and only know a fake name,” North held out the bottle as an offering.

“Meaning Delta and York didn’t find anything,” Tex tried to sound smug and drew her mug away.

North laughed softly, setting the bottle aside firmly and leaning on his elbows as he said, “No, they didn’t, but that’s not why I asked. I’m not looking for a bounty or a resume, I’m just making conversation, Tex. Humor me.”

North wiggled his shoulders energetically over the request, sipping from his cup while he watched Tex. Tex rubbed her fingers along the side of her mug, catching sight of Theta leaned out from behind North’s arm and sidling into the open while he thought Tex wasn’t looking. North leaned his chin on his hand, blinking innocently at Tex in her silence. The silence filled the hall, broken a minute later by North placing one finger down on the table for Tex to see.

“I was born Earthside,” Tex groused, flicking off North under the table when he smirked triumphantly. “In…a state.”

“Ok, that’s a start,” North praised. “And were you born into the criminal lifestyle, or wander into it?”

“Wandered in,” Tex admitted. “But, this will be the first job I take that wasn’t even legal by a technicality.”

“You’ll get used to it,” North promised, wiping drops of liquor off his mouth and musing, “Not the dregs by birth, so I’m going to guess…southern belle. Big skirts, debutante ball, parents' darling.”

“I’m not actually from Texas,” Tex informed.

“And I can’t actually imagine you in a skirt,” North retorted, closing his eyes and knitting his brows. “But Theta can. Not bad.”

“I wasn’t…you thought of it first!” Theta accused, backing away from Tex until she let a smile escape. 

“Strictly kid friendly pictures,” North hastened to promise Tex. “Earth was mostly cities by the time we were born anyway.Did you serve during the war or stay out of it?” 

“Stayed out of it,” Tex veered away from the blunt question. North frowned thoughtfully without judgment, nudging his glass away with one finger and measuring the level of scotch left in the bottle with a discerning look.

“Huh, then I guess you’re not here out of sentimentality,” North held up his hands innocently when he felt Tex bristle. “I don’t mean it that way. More like….people are here out of patriotism or pragmatism. Connie and York hope to do some broad good, but Maine and Wyoming don’t care past the latest power ups and paycheck. Since you stayed out of the war…”

“And you?” Tex turned the question around to give North a chance to ponder.

North scratched his chin while Theta paced down the length of his arm, tentatively approaching the middle of the table.

“A bit of both,” North admitted. “Yeah, the money and perks are good, I’m not going to deny that that was my first question. Charity isn’t my career choice. But I’ve also seen what happens when the Alliance and the Council decide progress at the center is ‘good enough’ and leave the colonies and frontier to rot. Peace isn’t permanent, and there’s still a lot to rebuild and people trying to scrape their lives back together. Think of what our AIs could do: survey entire planets in a fraction of the time, terraform with perfect precision, perform flawless medical operations and ship repairs.”

“You think the company will use it that way?” Tex asked doubtfully.

North pursed his lips tightly, shaking his head and replying, “I don’t know.They’ve worked with the Alliance before, but they could make more on the blackmarket. If that’s their business plan, I’d rather be one of the first to get the benefits.”

North glanced down at Theta, softening his expression as he considered the skittish AI. Smiling away the grim assessment, North prompted, “What about you?”

Tex drained the last drops of her glass. She had never put much philosophical thinking into why she was here. It was a job, it paid decently, the company had made a compelling case for her to join. The greater good was a nice thought, but not one she dwelled on excessively.

“Both,” Tex decided. “I get paid and the other can’t hurt.”

North nodded in solid agreement, still watching Theta edging forward in small spirals. North continued nodding thoughtfully to himself, closing his eyes and quickly opening them at a shuffle from Theta. Hiding a yawn behind his fist, North pushed the bottle towards Tex.

“What about you? Earth or colony?” Tex asked.

“Eh, I already told you about me,” North shrugged and Theta flickered doubtfully.

“Not really. You told me about Wash, York, Carolina, and a little about Wyoming. In fact…you lied or deflected all the questions about _you_ ,” Tex pointed, admitting. “Slick, Nate.”

North’s eyebrows arched in surprise and Theta looked up at him for help when Tex informed, “It’s all I know about you. That and your fetish for shuttle pilots, which I heard from York and Wyoming. Humor me.”

Tex leaned forward on laced fingers and wiggled her shoulders before taking the scotch bottle from the end of North’ hand and pouring herself a fresh serving.Theta shuffled his feet uncertainly, hopping up to North’s ear at the clatter of the scotch bottle. North sighed in mock defeat and Theta returned to the table, leaning against thin air and looking at North expectantly over his shoulder.

“Fair enough,” North ran his tongue against the inside of his lower lip. “Ok…Earthborn, in the states. Dad sold guns and ‘unapproved’ modifications and Mom sold drugs until she split, so South and I were lucky not to be cut out in a cell somewhere. We sucked it up until we were 12, then bribed the first cargo ship captain we knew to take us wherever he was going. Turns out that was _Omega_.”

"You just hitch hiked to  _Omega_ as pre-teens?" Tex asked doubtfully.

“Well, he would have sold us if we hadn’t pulled our guns,” North continued.“It didn’t matter much, we were with the Blue Suns a couple weeks later.”

“Slavery?” Tex shuddered at the thought and Theta dimmed.

“Almost,” North tilted his head, exhaling slowly in Theta’s direction. “They used slaves, yeah, but ours was more like indentured servitude. We knew the Blue Suns liked using kids and teens to move drugs- the Citadel had just given us an embassy, and C-Sec was figuring out how to deal with an influx of humans they didn’t have complete records for, and kids didn't scream 'gang affiliation.' South was small enough to crawl through the ducts, and I figured out how to sneak past the checkpoints after a couple of visits. It kept us fed and from being shot at random, we could have had it worse.”

“Did they get you hooked?” Tex hadn’t even seen North smoke, but he was full of surprises tonight.

“Nope. Once you see a Red Sand junkie too strung out to dress himself, you realize a biotic buzz isn’t worth it. They just kept one of us with someone who’d snap our necks if the other one didn’t cooperate. Usually they kept me, especially once I stopped being cute,” North admitted lightly.“After a couple years, they loosened up. A lot of them actually liked us ‘cause we knew what we were doing.”

“A couple of them realized we actually knew a thing or two about guns, then they _really_ liked us. We started to smuggle parts too, picked up new skills from the main guy who watched us. We kept one part here, one part there, until we had two guns of our very own. South celebrated our 19th birthday by shooting the guy right after a job. We grabbed what drugs and parts we could and got the hell off of _Omega_. We took whatever jobs we could on the Citadel for a few years, earned enough credits to start trading parts on our own, and went back to _Omega_ when our merchandise was worth more than killing us. Then we went back to Earth to kiss it good-bye, and now…we’re here.”

North shrugged at the end of his explanation and indicated his surroundings as proof, smiling smoothly at Tex. Theta shuffled his feet until North broke out into a grin.

“Wow,” Tex scoffed. “That’s…you’re kind of fucked up. No offense.”

North laughed out loud, startling Tex with genuine amusement. 

“We’re all fucked up,” North chuckled. “You don’t get into a pissing contest over who had the worst childhood or who has the highest body count here. Ok, we know Maine has the highest body count and Wyoming the second, but that’s because that is their resume.And Wash, South and I never did a stint with the military, so I guess York and Carolina might have a leg up on us in that department. But we all have our shit. That’s why we’re here. It’s a good gig.It’s this, or go back to our respective shit holes.” 

North unscrewed the scotch, pouring out his largest helping yet and sipping it quietly as he watched Tex think. He hardly looked ruffled, the only betrayal that he wasn’t perfectly cheerful visible in Theta’s flickers and nervous fidgeting. Tex knew this was a good gig, but it felt below her skill and sounded well below North’s typical job. But, it did have hot water, tolerable beds, and steady, if not gourmet, meals. And so far the law or raiders or slavers hadn’t kicked their door in. It could be worse.

“Ok, I’ll second that,” Tex clinked glasses with North and indulged in a final drink. “I liked a fully stocked arsenal and a private room.”

“Damn straight,” North agreed cheerfully. “The AIs really tip the scales towards ‘best job ever.’”

“No shit,” Tex snorted. “Your shields alone make Alliance tech look like junk.”

Theta blushed a bright pink, looking up at North and glancing at Tex. North sat back with a surprised nod, turning to Tex as he asked, “Want to see something cool?”

“Um…I’m gonna need more,” Tex warned, noticing North's cheeks beginning to redden from the alcohol.

“It’s something Theta’s been working on,” North explained.

“It’s not for combat,” Theta squeaked, beaming to North’s shoulder. “I thought it looked fun.”

“Not everything has to be for combat,” North assured. “Go ahead, I bet Tex’ll think it’s cool.”

“She didn’t say that,” Theta reminded accusingly.

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Tex reasoned to the small AI. “Is it like your ship?”

“Kind…kind of,” Theta hopped back to the table.“It’s not as cool as Epsilon’s stuff…”

“Epsilon’s stuff is combat stuff,” North reminded, nodding between Theta and Tex encouragingly. “This is just fun.”

“Well, now you have to show me,” Tex told Theta sternly. “Otherwise you’re just being a tease.”

Theta shifted his ‘weight’ from foot to foot, flaring an embarrassed pink again when Tex waved at him to get going. Dimming his main projection Theta looked up as pink and purple fireworks blossomed in the air above his head. Sparks rained down onto the table and into North’s mug, fading as the fell. Theta looked between the two agents, exploding a large firework that sputtered out in midair. Shrinking down, Theta mumbled, “Did it hurt?”

“Not even a twinge,” North shook his head.

“Where’d you see those?” Tex asked the AI. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen fireworks, let alone an AI raised in space.

“Somewhere on the Citadel, I mean, North did,” Theta explained softly. “I thought they were pretty. But I can’t do other colors or shapes yet.”

Theta peeked out from under his helmet in anticipation for Tex’s reaction. North was watching her too, clearly thinking bolstering thoughts in his AI’s direction. Tex certainly wouldn’t call the fireworks sizable or grand; after Epsilon’s projections, they looked like graphic malfunctions. And it wasn’t the most informative AI demonstration Tex would have hoped for. On the other hand, this is the closest to ‘fun’ she had gotten in several weeks, which she could laugh or cry about, and she was rounding the curve to ‘drunk.’

“Not bad,” Tex nodded, leaning down to address Theta directly. “If you combine that with your ship projections, you could show some bitching space battles.”

Tex made a soft explosion noise, sitting up when Theta flashed away from her in surprise and hid with half or his projection staining North’s ear and hair. North stuck out his lip pensively, admitting, “That’d be kind of cool. Not as pretty, but definitely cool.”

“Ok,” Theta decided, leaning out from cover to look at Tex carefully. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I’d like to see that,” Tex explained. 

Theta nodded quickly, vanishing out and distracting North while Tex finished his glass. Picking up the nearly empty bottle of scotch, Tex admitted, “They might notice this.”

“Probably,” North admitted after a second of silence. Tucking the bottle of pills in his pocket and standing up, North assured, “But there’s only so many places they can stash it, we’ll find it again. Thanks for helping with Wash.”

“No problem,” Tex shrugged off the presumptuous ‘we’ for the time being. “I wasn’t going to leave him like that.”

Tex stomped to throw the bottle in the trash when she saw a satisfied smirk catch the corner of North’s mouth. Being the least insufferable person in this place was not an achievement, Tex wanted to tell North as he quietly walked back with her to the bunks. She had gone for the scotch, and stayed for the scotch and information. 

“Thanks. Again,” North frowned at himself and waved. “Training is going to be _awesome_ tomorrow.”

“It always is,” Tex confirmed sarcastically. “I might steal a painkiller or two.”

“Deal,” North yawned unabashedly in Tex’s face.

Shutting her door softly, Tex kicked off her boots and collapsed into her bed. She could feel the hangover looming over her handicapped alcohol tolerance. She was going to regret this tomorrow. Fireworks and shooting the shit were all well and good, but she wasn’t here to make friends. Not that North was a friend. Acquaintance. Ally, maybe. Turning over to finally sleep, Tex decided gaining an ally could count as a days work.


End file.
